


Old Habits Die Hard

by DoWeHaveADeal (SenseAndSilence)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), The Legend of Barney Thomson (2015), Trainspotting (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Barney being cute and kind of a psycho, Begbie being Begbie, Comeplay, Consensual Somnophilia, Deepthroating, F/M, General Scottishness, I tried to fill the porn with plot, Lacey being ridiculously improper, Listen I am very sorry, Rough Sex, Rumple being a little shit, There is some noncon but it's not minded so much?, but it's still definitely noncon so please read at your own discretion, it's complicated - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2018-12-22 17:38:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11972319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SenseAndSilence/pseuds/DoWeHaveADeal
Summary: Barney felt like he was about to throw up. Although everything had gone according to plan this time, he still felt like the police would be breaking through his door at any moment. They’d wrestle him to the floor, read him his Miranda rights (that is assuming they didn’t shoot him on sight) and on he’d go to prison. And wasn’t that ironic. Barney Thomson, the awkward barber who had escaped a livelong sentence for multiple cases of murder in Scotland to then successfully emigrate to the US, would get raped in prison and end up on the electric chair.Or: The one were Barney, Begbie and Rumple are three brothers with wildly different but generally fucked up personalities who have to compete for the affection of two women because Belle and Lacey happen to only be twins, dammit.





	1. A New Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> I hope we're all intelligent people and this is can be seen as superfluous but for the kids in the back here it is: 
> 
> Outside of the realm of fiction RAPE IS A HORRIBLE CRIME.  
> You must not commit it! 'No' means NO, meanwhile 'not yes' or silence also means NO. When your partner SAYS NO OR DOES NOT GIVE CONSENT OR IS NOT IN A STATE TO GIVE CONSENT, you ABORT THE MISSION! I don't care how old you are, or who you are having sex with, I don't care where it is or when it is, even if you are in the middle of having beautiful, mind blowing sex, ONCE SOMEONE WITHDRAWS CONSENT, YOU STOP! Because otherwise that would be rape and, sing it with me kids, RAPE IS A HORRIBLE CRIME! 
> 
> When in doubt please ask your partner for consent again, it's not rocket science.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Matching artwork if anyone is interested: https://ibb.co/hWfFta

Barney felt like he was about to throw up. Although everything had gone according to plan this time, he still felt like the police would be breaking through his door at any moment. They’d wrestle him to the floor, read him his Miranda rights, that is assuming they didn’t shoot him on sight, and on he’d go to prison. And wasn’t that ironic. Barney Thomson, the awkward barber who had escaped a livelong sentence for multiple cases of murder in Scotland to then successfully emigrate to the US, would get raped in prison and end up on the electric chair.  
   
Except that that wasn’t going to happen and Barney knew that he had to calm down. Squeezing his unusually cold, sweaty fingers into fists, he forced himself to slowly breathe in and out for a while. Then he got up from the dingy little armchair in his living room and hesitantly looked over the motionless form that was spread out on the couch before him.  
   
Lacey French looked dead to the world.  
   
Her face was still and relaxed in her sleep, her ever-messy hair had come apart from its bun and was framing her features like a personification of the slumbering darkness that cradled her in its depth. One of her arms was draped thoughtlessly across her chest, the other, having held her beer just a moment ago, hanging down towards the ground now, the beer slowly soaking into Barney’s old carpet.  
   
Barney had become friends with Lacey around four months ago, when he had first moved into this little town called Storybrook (where his estranged older brother Rumford Gold owned a pawnshop) trying to get as far away from Glasgow as possible. He’d opened up a barber’s shop here and business was going surprisingly well. Of course, life in a town like Storybrook was different from life in Glasgow and so, inevitably, it had taken him some time to adjust. He’d missed Glasgow’s pubs and familiar sights but he had no doubt that it had been worth it. Except for his brother, who had apparently build quite the reputation in this town and owned about two thirds of it, Barney didn’t know anyone in this new place. His brother, unfortunately, had little time for him and, even if he did, wasn’t among the most warm-hearted of men. So, naturally, Barney had felt a bit lonely at first. Fortunately, it wasn’t as if he’d left anyone behind in Scotland anyway. Most people he’d had contact with in the past were suspicious of him or… well… were dead.  
   
Undoubtedly one of the best things about his life in Storybrook in those first few weeks, however, was that he could take pride in being his own boss and didn’t have to permanently cower or apologize (although, admittedly, his natural tendencies still led to a higher-than-average amount of cowering and apologizing). That of course had stopped once his third brother, who he’d deliberately left behind in Scotland, had turned up in Storybrook. About a fortnight after Barney’s initial arrival, Begbie had sauntered into his shop, wearing one of his usual checked-pattern polo-shirts, and flopped into one of his chairs with a wink. “Ah bet ye thought ye hud seen th' lest o' me, ya cunt.”  
   
They formed a truce of sorts, in which Begbie didn’t kill him for trying to leave him behind in Scotland and he didn’t surrender his brother to Interpol (who were undoubtedly still looking for him) or ask him how he’d managed to get across US borders. Fortunately, Begbie didn’t live with him but had instead been designated a small flat to live in by Rumford in exchange for providing him with Begbie’s persuasive powers in dealings with difficult tenants. So, between his own flat and his own shop, Barney had a comfortable life in spite of Begbie’s occasional bullying.  
   
The absolutely best thing, however, in this quiet and uneventful town in which he had build a new home was Lacey French. While he had thought that he knew what friendship felt like while living in Glasgow, he had only in the US realized that what he’d experienced up until now had only been relationships of mutual usefulness. Even so, he had felt lonely when he first set up shop in Storybrook. There had been no one for him to talk to but his customers or his rather difficult brothers, and he’d quickly felt a sense of deep loneliness envelop him.  
   
Until, that is, Lacey bounced into his shop on a quiet day in November and asked for a summer job. Well, asked was really a bit of a euphemism. After two minutes of conversation in which he’d tried to make clear to her that there was no need for a personal assistant in a barber shop, much less one as small as his own, she had taken the broom out of his hands, asked him whether he preferred tea or coffee and then proceeded to tell him her honest and unapologetic opinion of just about everyone in Storybrook until his head was spinning when she left at five. The next day, she’d started to decorate his shop-window and asked him if he’d ever heard of a barber bar which, obviously, was a barber shop with a liquor license and was definitely going to make him rich. Having temporarily interrupted her studies and needing more money than she was currently earning as a barkeeper in the Rabbit Hole, she naturally wouldn’t mind if some of that money ended up in her pocket, too.  
   
After about two weeks, they were regularly spending time together outside of the shop, doing everything from playing cards, watching films and listening to music to getting in-advisably drunk on weekdays. When sometimes people gave them, or rather him, disapproving glances, Barney thought that loosing the good opinion of some of the townspeople was a cheap price to pay for her friendship. The point was, for the first time in his life, things seemed to go right for him. He was truly and ridiculously content and if he had sometimes desired more than a friendship with Lacey French, he had swallowed that desire and forced himself to be grateful for what he had gained already.  
   
Until today.  
   
Today, everything was different. Barney wiped his hands on his maroon suit trousers one last time before he crossed the distance between himself and where Lacey was lying motionlessly on his couch. He gently took the half-empty bottle of beer out of her hand and put it on the table. This had been a profoundly stupid idea. He wasn’t an expert but he didn’t think that alcohol mixed well with any drug. He sighed and rubbed a shaking hand over his eyes. It wasn’t her fault that he was such an unmentionable pervert and he shouldn’t have given her the beer with it.  
   
“It’s too late to change that now,” he thought “You’ve got to get moving.”  
   
Barney tried to calmly assess the room around him. There were the two nearly empty beer bottles on the table next to him, along with two plates carrying the leftovers of their shared meal and the inconspicuous digital camera that Barney had silently placed there when they had begun to eat.  
   
The camera. He was going to start with the camera.  
   
Taking the camera from its place on the table, he looked lovingly over Lacey’s body, as she was laid out in front of him. It wouldn’t feel right to take pictures of her when she wasn’t smiling back at him but he wasn’t going to make the colossal mistake of not documenting her naked beauty if that meant he might never have a chance to see it again.  
   
Naked. Right.  
   
Despite his enormous nervousness, he slid one hand under the hem of her dress and-  
   
“Ah shite, dinnae tell me ye didnae invite me tae th' pairtie, Barney!” Franco mocked him gleefully as he suddenly brushed through the living room door. Holding a can of beer in one hand, Begbie took a swig from its depth as he took in the scene before him. “Ah didnae think ye hud it in ye, ye wee shit.”  
   
Barney had hurriedly shrunk back from Lacey as soon as his brother entered, falling on his arse and painfully landing on the hand that had caressed her thigh only a moment before. Begbie just grinned down at him and roughly patted his head. “A'm sorry tae interrupt th' orgy, laddie, bit ye'll hae tae gang git me some fags fae th' shop, eh? Ah cannae gang in thare anymair, thay wilnae hae it wi'oot cawin th'polis. Ah wid nott care except fur th' wankers at Interpol wha wilnae hing aff us either, ye ken?”  
   
With cold panic gripping his chest and Franco in a well enough mood, Barney decided to try and reason with him.  
   
“C-Can I get them in an hour? I would do it now but I have a guest, you know. She, ah, she didn’t feel very well and now she is sleeping.”  
   
Begbie’s eyes glittered in amusement and Barney, desperately trying to swallow around the lump in his throat, could see that he didn’t believe him for a second. “If she's sleeping how come ye kin nae lea fur a bot 'n' git me mah fags?” he asked.  
   
“Ah don’t want to leave her here, alone. There could be something wrong with her, ya know.”  
   
“A'richt, ah will watch her fur ye, then. Sae that wey she'll be safe 'til ye come back. If ye ken whit ah mean.”  
   
Barney flinched and looked down in embarrassment and shame, quietly insisting “Ah wid aye lik' tae be’ere wi' her ‘til she wakes up, Franco.”  
   
Begbie’s face changed. No longer amused, he took another step towards his brother. “Sae ye cannae dae yer wee brother a wee favour fur ye want tae git yer boaby drookit. Yer wee fuckin' brother wha ye cunt left behind whin ye cam 'ere wi'oot a seicont thought, ey?”  
   
“Please, Franco, it’s not that, I swear! It’s just that she could really be sick, ye ken, and-”  
   
“Ah’ll let ye ken in a moment ye daft cunt, Ah said GIT ME MAH FAGS!”  
   
In the space of a heartbeat, Barney had sprung up from his place on the floor with an undignified yelp, shrinking back and looking in horror at the switch-blade Begbie had pulled out from underneath his shirt.  
   
“That isnae necessary, Franco, ah’m aye yer brother.”  
   
“Haud yer wheesht an get me mah ciggys, ya boggin’ cunt. Unless yer daft enough tae huv a go’a me.”  
   
Eyeing his brothers angry face, white knuckles and shining blade timidly, Barney finally nodded and took a step backwards towards the door. Closer to the door, he hesitated, feeling like some of his courage had returned. Feeling this, Begbie let out another furious snarl and his brother turned and ran out of the door as if he was afraid that Franco would be chasing him.

Begbie snorted in amusement, returning the switch-blade to his waistband, his brother had always been a right cowardly cunt. Speaking of cunt, he turned around and took a closer look at the young lass who was sleeping on his brother’s worn-out couch. She was lying on her back, with one hand hanging from the sofa as if she had dropped something, her face a blank canvas. Stepping closer and around the coffee table, so that he was standing over her middle, Begbie decided that she was young but not too young (if he had learned one thing in prison than that he hated fuckin’ pedophiles) which made it right enough for him to reach out and squeeze her breast firmly with his hand until he felt the soft resistance of condensed flesh. The feeling reminded Begbie of other body parts he liked to squeeze.  
   
Putting his beer down between his feet, he shoved both of his hands underneath her prone form and flipped her onto her stomach with a grunt, making sure to angle her slightly so that her face pressed into the back of the couch while the promising outline of her arse almost hit his knees. Still looking at said promising outline, Begbie unconsciously lowered his hand to the crotch of his black chino pants, fondling the bulge that had formed there, and looked down at his prick. He couldn't remember the last time he had been so hard, the last time he had felt so heavy in his own hand without having to take one of those disgusting blue pills.  
   
A glance towards the grandfather clock in one corner of the depressing flat told him that he probably had a few minutes left until his brother came back from the shop. Having made a decision and letting a small smirk bloom on his lips, Begbie took the hem of the girl’s impossibly short black dress with both hands and pushed it upwards, sliding it over the bouncy curve of her ass until the fabric rested around her hips. He snorted as he saw the lacy, red thong the lass was wearing.  
   
“Trust mah hawfwit brother tae drug a hoor,” he thought “Whit a shite o' dosh that wis.”  
   
Wasting no money or time himself, Begbie pulled the piece of red fabric from her in rough yanks. He ran his nose along its middle before absent-mindedly stuffing them in one of the back pockets of his trousers. Then, he took one shaking breath and put his roughened hands flat on her creamy ass cheeks, spreading them carefully. This lassie was young, he thought, young enough so that her pucker looked like the pinkish version of a pencil eraser, small and tight. He grunted as he pulled her arse towards him for a better view, so that her legs made contact with the floor and her hips lined up with the edge of the couch. Slurping, he took another sip of his beer and then, having made up his mind, put the beer can onto the crooked coffee table behind him and knelt down between the girl’s legs.  
   
Moving forward and bending at the waist, Begbie ran his nose along the skin of her soft cheek, his moustache twitching when he took a deep breath. After he had inhaled a good amount of her scent, he ran his hands up that beautiful piece of flesh again, finally slipping his tongue between her cheeks at the top of that wonderful cleft that led down to heaven. Beneath Begbie’s moustache, his mouth was actually watering as he slipped his tongue further down, opening her ass a bit wider as he went. He turned his head to the side and spread her cheeks apart enough to lap her crack softly and wetly with the flat of his tongue. Licking his way down and down, his mouth lost in the deep cleft, the incredible softness of the skin between her cheeks caressing his face and scraping along his beard.  
   
After another drunken inhale, Begbie tore himself away from the heavenly meat before him, trying to catch his breath. His prick was throbbing painfully against the inside of his trousers, his hands trembling with barely contained tension and every few seconds he had to close his eyes, now heavy with drink and arousal, seeing a flurry of naked bodies, moaning and writhing against cold prison tiles.  
   
He wanted this to last forever.  
   
With a bestial grunt, Begbie again took hold of the flesh laid out before him and bit into it with a moan, his hips thrusting against a supple thigh. He opened his mouth as wide as he could and tried to get as much in his mouth as possible, now gently nibbling on the skin to feel its muscular firmness. He was drooling, his moustache wet from the spit that he was spreading around with his tongue. Slowly, Begbie let a wad of spit fall out of his mouth into the cleft before him and watched it run into the damp shadow between her flesh.  
   
Hurriedly, he unbuttoned his chinos, pushing them down with his underwear. He left the waistband of his pants rest directly below his ass, just far enough to get his pulsating prick out. The thing was rock hard, coloured an angry purple and dripping precum. Changing his position and leaving one hand massaging his throbbing cock, Begbie moved his mouth deep between those soft cheeks, stretching out the tip of his tongue.  
   
When his wet muscle touched her tight little asshole for the first time, he grunted in ecstasy and brutally gripped the base of his prick to keep from coming. He nuzzled her cheeks apart with his face and started to fuck her clenched sphincter with his tongue as he pumped his cock in the same rhythm. Heaven. This was heaven and he could spent eternity just like this – his spit running down his chin, lapping at the delicious opening while he jerked his cock raw.  
He felt a surge of pleasure from his heavy balls through to his cock as he pushed the tip of his tongue into her tight hole for the last time and ran his precum-lubricated hand over the engorged head of his length. Then he quickly rocked back and rose until he was crouched over her unconscious body, moving the dripping head of his cock towards her naked ass. Without so much as a look at the girl’s face, he pushed her legs apart and, gripping her hip to keep her steady, he lined the tip with her spit-slick opening and thrust into her with brutal force.  
   
Begbie threw his head back in pure rapture and let out a sound that was caught somewhere between a whine and a grunt. The movement pushed his hips forward, engulfing his prick in tight hotness, increasing his pleasure. He began to piston in and out. He was so ready for this, so needy and desperate for this shit that he had missed since... a young man’s cry rang inside his head, begging him to let him go, trying to find a hold on wet tiles but slipping. Beneath him, the girl began to moan softly in her sleep, her body writhing unconsciously under his onslaught. All these sensations were making him moan and shake with the difficulty of holding back his climax. He pulled the firm meat back against him, watching it wobble when he slapped it against his thighs, reflexively tightening anal muscles milking him every time he withdrew.   
When he knew he couldn’t prolong it any longer, Begbie withdrew his cock from her newly dilated fuckhole with an obscene squelching noise and gripped his flesh so that the wide tip of his burning prick touched the now bruised cheeks before him. Stroking himself hard and fast, he then shot his creamy semen all over the abused pink flesh in dirty spurts of white.  
   
His muscles were trembling as he crouched next to her, spurting warm cream on her cheeks, watching his thick cum slowly drip down the perfect globe of her ass, some of its droplets disappearing in the shadows of her cleft. He kept pumping and wiping his tip on her ass, making sure to completely drain his balls in his brother’s tacky and poorly-lit one room apartment, his left hand rising to smear his seed into the smooth surface of her arse.  
   
“W-what are you doing?” he heard a familiar voice exclaim in horror. When he turned around, his brother stood in the lightened rectangle of the door, trembling.  
   
“Whit dae ya think, ya daft cunt? Dae ya think ah’m pentin’?”, Begbie asked him sarcastically and looked at the now cum-smeared girl before him.  
   
Barney dropped the shopping bag he had been holding. He looked as if he was about to cry and when he spoke the terror in his voice made his native dialect peak through.   
   
“But you cannae have! Oh God, oh no, what daed ya do, Begbie!?”  
   
„Oy! Dinnae fuckin‘ be a wee poof aboot‘t noe, ya eedjit fuckin‘ buftie, Ah‘m just oapenin’ tis cunt up for ye. Yer cannae tell me ya wurnae aboot tae fuckin’ bugger the lassie yerself!’.  
   
“I wouldnae! I couldnae do’t, Francis, t’isnae richt. Ah juist wanted tae take sum photies.”   
   
Begbie got up and started to sort out his trousers, paying no attention to the mess he had left on the couch but laughing and pointing mockingly at his brother.   
   
“Wit the fuck daed ye juist say, ya fuckin’ cunt? Look at the hoor, ya poof, wit a cuntin’ shan tae nae fuck that, that’s a braw fuckin’ airse on that lass and she’s gaggin' fur it.”   
   
With that Begbie had finished zipping up and gave Lacey’s arse a final slap, the wet smacking sound echoing obscenely in the otherwise quiet room.  
   
Barney stared at his brother. “But she’s unconscious...”   
   
“An whae’s fault ya think t’is, ya fuckin’ wanker?”, Begbie laughed and strode towards Barney’s frozen figure, crouching to look for a beer in the discarded plastic bag.   
   
“Wh..what do you m-mean?”  
   
“Dinnae be a feartie pooftah noe, Barney, ya cannae lie tae me!” He took a packet of cigarettes and pushed it into his back pocket, then absent-mindedly wiped his moustache with his other hand while next to him, his brother started to tremble. “Ah ken a drugged-up cunt if ah fuck one!”  
   
Barney didn’t say anything. He just stared at Lacey’s used form, looking heartbroken.   
   
“Arite.”, Begbie said as he finally found a can of beer and opened it, “Ah’m pure fuckin’ druthy noe, ye ken?”  
   
He gave his brother a clap on the back as if they were sharing a hilarious joke: “Cuid uise some kip, tae. Ah will see ye aroond, eh? Juist ye hae fin noo, laddie.”   
   
And with that, Begbie laughed one last time and turned to stride out the door, lighting a cigarette as he went.


	2. Rude Awakening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barney tries to make the best out of a bad situation and fails miserably (at first). Non-Con

Still shaking, Barney made his way over to Lacey’s unmoving form for the second time today. This time, however, he was decidedly less excited about it. He dropped down next to her and, trying not to look too closely at her exposed bottom, half-blindly searched for the hem of her dress, finally pulling it down so that it once again covered her bare skin. “What did I do?” he thought, as he watched wet spots bloom from where his brother’s cum was soaking through the thin material of Lacey’s dress.  
   
He wasn’t going to make pictures of her like this. How could he, if all he was going to think about when looking at them was… He felt sick. Why did he have to be such a fucking coward all the time. Incapable even, to protect the person he loved most. He raised his fist to his open mouth and bit on it, frustration blocking out the pain. He blamed it on their mother, he thought. All of it. His cowardice, Franco’s brutality, Rumford’s callousness. When Franco had yelled at him to get his cigarettes, it had reminded him of the countless nights he was forced to accompany his mother to the bingo. His family’s genetics were a sick remake of an already badly staged original.  
Franco playing his mother, himself playing his old man and Rumford doing his best to fulfil the role of the hard survivor, unaffected by his miserable childhood. How would he ever get out of this train wreck they called family?  
   
Barney groaned and buried his face in his hands, running his fingers backwards through his slicked back hair. The gelled strands of it felt uncomfortably rough beneath his hands. He looked up at Lacey, still lying on her stomach, facing away from him. Tiredly, he stood up and carefully embraced her, lifting her against his chest to slowly turn her around and lie her down on her back, facing him.  
   
"You have such beautiful hair," he whispered, combing his fingers through the dark strands on the pillow. For a moment, he thought about cutting off a lock of her hair for himself but he discarded the idea quickly. His angel shouldn’t have to suffer any more physical loss because of his own perverted desire. Nervously fidgeting from one foot to the other, he stood beside the couch staring at her black clad breasts, willing her nipples to become hard so he could see them through her dress. He wouldn’t disrobe her. No, he would leave Lacey’s dignity in tact and be, at least in that way, worthy of her trust. Barney knew that one intimate, undisturbed moment was all he needed from her to find his pleasure and satisfy his desire. And after that was achieved, he could finally be a good friend to her. Be only a friend and leave her be, free from the constant burden of his bumbling inadequacy and perverted longing.   
   
Cautiously leaning over the couch, Barney watched Lacey’s calm breath in the slow up and down of her chest. He wondered what it would be like if she wanted him. If she had spread herself out before him instead of lying there motionless and soiled. Would she let him massage her soft breasts? Would she ever look at him with longing, pull him closer by his hips? With that thought, Barney fumbled open his fly and cradled his twitching cock, the slightest hint of pre-cum already feeling damp against the skin of his hand. What would her sweet, cooling breathe feel like on that angry, hot flesh?   
   
Hesitantly, he took another step forward, taking himself in hand more firmly and lowering the mushroom-like head of his cock to her nostrils. The soft whisper of her breath around the small slit of his moist flesh made him whimper and jerkily grip himself a little firmer. Too late he noticed a sudden drop of pre-cum slide off his tip and with a soft, almost silent drop, it fell onto her sleeping lips. Feeling both hotly fascinated and horrified, he watched the drop of his own liquid as it slowly slid down along the curve of her upper lip, disappearing into her mouth.  
   
Surely, there was still enough time to clean her afterwards.  
   
Taking shaky, shallow breaths, he continued to stroke his erection, this time leaning over her with conscious aim, salty liquid slowly accumulating at his tip until another drop fell from it, this time landing right above her lips and pooling in her philtrum. Gasping with suppressed giddiness and arousal, Barney moved closer to her still, continuing to slowly stroke himself. Carefully, he pressed another droplet to the end of his cock and, with a whimper that was located somewhere between fear and pleasure, softly rubbed it along Lacey’s full lower lip, leaving a glistening trail of pre-cum in his very own, lewd mockery of lip gloss.  
   
“Whit dae ya think, ya daft cunt? Dae ya think ah’m pentin’?”  
   
Barney almost sobbed with a hit of intense guilt but, not withstanding the temptation, he smeared the sticky liquid around on her lips with his spongy head, seeking friction against the rosy, mouldable tissue. When the tease of her lips against his feverish skin couldn’t satisfy the building sensation in his groin any longer, Barney reached out and carefully closed his hand around her jaw, pulling it down so that her mouth opened just slightly. It was enough of an opening to lay the tip of his dick against it and gently, very gently, push inside.   
   
Ecstasy.  
   
Barney did have just as much experience with drugs than he had with women, which meant pretty much none at all, but he had heard his brothers friends talk about heroine when they had visited Glasgow once. And heroine, Barney Thomson decided, sounded exactly like Lacey French’s mouth felt. Crouching over her still form with spasms running through his body, Barney waited until his muscles had stopped twitching involuntarily and he felt able to breath more naturally, before he dared to start moving again.  
   
Moaning and trying to get a better angle into his angel’s impossibly snug mouth while keeping up the slow, wet slide of his dick against her tongue, Barney froze when he instead looked right into a pair of shocked blue eyes. For a moment that seemed like eternity but couldn’t have been more than a few seconds the pair just stared at each other as Barney panted, his chest heaving, his dick a solid weight against her tongue. Then Lacey tried to move her head.   
   
She opened her mouth around his cock and let out a gurgling cry, trying to wrench herself away from him by throwing her head from side to side. Trying to calm her down, Barney took her head between his hands and gently pushed her back into the couch. The pressure and pull of his hands straining the muscles in her neck, so that she finally stopped struggling and stilled beneath his grip. “Shh…. it’s okay. I won’t hurt you, I promise.” He tenderly brushed a thumb across her right cheek, using the movement to sweep a strand of hair out of the way. Beneath him, Lacey let out a soft whimper, her eyes looking at him in confused fear. She tried to say something but the vibrations around his cock made Barney’s hips rock forward instinctively, making her choke and fall silent while he tried to get himself under control. He let out a tortured groan, cursing Begbie for ruining his schedule and making this so hard on her. “I can’t stop right now, sweetheart, I’m so sorry. Only hold still for a bit longer, I promise, please… my pure angel, please.”   
   
She moaned in protest as his cock resumed its heavy slide over her tongue, momentarily giving her a chance to relax, then pressing even deeper into her hot opening. She started gagging again when the engorged head of his cock forcefully pushed its way past her uvula and down her throat. Barney began to fuck her throat in deep strokes, slowly picking up speed. Lacey started to struggle again, helplessly spluttering spit and precum around the hard flesh in her mouth, and he gripped her head more firmly, pitching his chest forward with his hips pumping back and forth, balls slapping against her chin with every stroke.  
   
When he had worked himself into a steady rhythm, determined to not make her suffer longer than necessary, Barney closed his eyes and tried to give himself over to the erotic sensation of the flesh around him. Right when he decided that this was the purest pleasure he would ever experience, his world crashed down around him: Lacey, for reasons unfathomable, had decided to start sucking. Barney cried out in shock as he promptly lost his rhythm, starting to fuck her face in artless, bruising thrusts.   
   
His cock pounded in and out of her mouth as she maintained a steady suction. Barney couldn't hold back any more. Groaning desperately he threaded his fingers through her hair and twisted his fist violently to hold her in place. He felt the tip of her nose brush his stomach as he thrust deep into her mouth. With a last jerk against her swollen lips, his balls pulled tight towards his body and he flooded Lacey’s mouth, his cock twitching with every spurt of thick cum that he pumped into her winching throat. Lacey’s squeezed her eyes shut in fear of suffocation and gurgled helplessly, massaging his spongy head with her sore palate as warm cum began to ooze out from the sides of her mouth.  
   
“Oh God, angel! Ah, fuck. You are p-perfect. It’s t-too good.”  
   
He felt her throat muscles contract along his length as he wallowed in pure bliss and pressed his twitching flesh more firmly into her. Lacey’s chest was heaving, her body bucking up against him from underneath, desperately trying to get some air. As she coughed around him violently, a spurt of cum shot out of her nostril. He wanted to praise her, to worship her with his words but he couldn’t even seem to form a complete sentence.   
   
“You’re…. so good, such a good - ah, fuck.”   
   
Finally, Barney felt all tension drain out of him after one final tremor had run through him. He steadied himself with one arm on the armrest of the old couch and with the other hand encircled his softening member, letting it slip out from its warm, wet hold with a soppy sound. When he let go, his damp cock slid down Lacey’s chin and finally settled its weight on the side of her neck. He closed his eyes, suddenly feeling pleasantly exhausted and calm despite the circumstances, and waited for Lacey to push him off of her. Beneath him Lacey took big gulps of air, gasping, her body convulsing violently from top to bottom. After a few moments in which she got her body back under control, he heard her swallow several times, then she panted softly and lay still.   
   
Silence.  
   
Through the fog of post-coital bliss, Barney was coming back to reality now. Slowly, very slowly, dread was pooling in his stomach. He had raped Lacey French. There was no denying it. He, unforgivably, had planned to drug her and undress her, to take photographs of her, and instead, he had let his brother rape her and then had raped her himself. He was a fucking failure and he had failed to protect her not only from others but from himself.   
   
Her hands were still on his hips, where she had tried to push him from her, and he could feel her fingers slowly relax until they fell away from him like dead leaves from a tree. He would go to prison, Barney thought in horror. Although, he knew that he deserved it, he instantly wanted to vomit at the thought. He wasn’t made for prison life, he would die in less than a month . Suddenly, the nightmarish doubts he’d had an hour ago seemed to be painful reality and with a desperate wheeze, he fell to the side and vomited over the edge of his shabby couch.   
   
“Oh, shit, Barney! Are you okay?”   
   
Trying to get a grip on his gag reflexes and his rolling stomach, Barney gasped as he felt Lacey grip his right biceps and wriggle out from underneath him. Bracing his left arm against the near-by table so that he wouldn’t fall into his own mess, he supported Lacey as well as he could in her quest to kneel next to him on the sofa. Once she was sitting upright, one hand still gripping his arm while the other soothingly drifted up and down his back, he tried to look at her from underneath the curtain of his hair. At the first glance of her worried gaze, he promptly let out a desperate sob and continued violently dry-heaving in the direction of his ruined carpet.   
   
“Shh,” Lacey murmured into his ear, smoothing his hair away from his distraught face. “It’s all going to be alright, okay? No need to panic. I’ve got you.”  
   
“I… I-I’m s-so s-orry, Lace...Lacey,” Barney sobbed in between hiccups. His face felt warm with guilt and shame. Here he was wallowing in her sympathy, while just minutes ago he had pushed his dick so far down his angel’s throat that she had gagged and fought for air. And he was the one vomiting. “Pathetic,” he thought.  
   
Lacey just cradled his shoulders more tightly. “Hey, it’s okay, Barney. Shh…We all get nervous sometimes, alright? I knew I shouldn’t have let you do this. If anyone should be sorry, it’s me. I should have seen that it was a stupid fucking idea.” She gently kissed him on his damp forehead. “Alright? Are you okay?”   
   
He shook his head, her kindness killing him. “But you – you didn’t want to be awake for i-it a-and I f-fucked up the schedule and I ruined everything like Ah- I always do and-”   
   
“Barney, stop! Hey… hey, look at me,” she cradled his tear-stained face in her hands and forced him to look at her. His face looked swollen and blotchy, his red-rimmed eyes avoiding her gaze at first but after some more encouragement he hesitantly met her gaze, his lips trembling.   
   
“I bought a shit pill from a shit wanna-be dealer in this shitty white-fenced town. They were probably old as fuck and they were probably not even real knockouts, alright? Who knows what it was and how to estimate the exact effect of that shit, I’m probably lucky it didn’t kill me.”  
   
That new idea didn’t console Barney in the least. Instead, he thought of Lacey, lying dead and cold on his couch, all because he had let her take an unknown drug that he couldn’t truthfully distinguish from rat poison. His doubts and objections overcome by a few smiles and amusing but eventually meaningless platitudes about the economic ineffectiveness of small-town dealers killing their best customers. If he was honest to himself, he’d been drunk and horny and he’d have said yes to anything when Lacey offered to let him help her to ‘try something out’ that went ‘maybe a little bit’ beyond just friends. Too long had the desire, the perverted thoughts, festered in him to endanger this chance for more than friendship by questioning the scenario of her choice. Even more so since the idea of taking her unconscious, unable to watch him fumble around and embarrass himself, had given him an immediate boner. Fucking pervert.  
   
Seeing his face crumble once again, s he gave him a gentle smile.   
   
“Besides, it wasn’t so bad. At the end, I mean.”   
   
He stiffened. Something dark and heavy curling in his chest. Lacey liked her lips.   
   
“Yer cannae mean tha’...” Barney whispered, his insecurity once again solidifying in the tone of his voice. Then added, almost too quiet for Lacey to catch, “Ah raped ye.”  
   
“Oh, for fuck’s sake Barney!” Lacey sighed and looked at him sternly. “You cannot rape the willing, alright? Remember the safety sign we said I’d make if somehow I woke up or anything went wrong and I couldn’t speak yet?” She made two peace signs with her hands and wriggled them around before his face. “Remember?”  
   
“...Yes.” Barney said and looked at her from beneath tearful lashes.  
   
“And did you see me do that at any point after I woke up?”  
   
Barney thought of his brother, of his grinning face next to her bared, unconscious form and of the sound his brother’s hand had made when it had come down across her ass. He dropped his head.   
   
“No.” He murmured.  
   
Lacey grinned and nudged his shoulder with her small fist. “See? It’s all good. Though, next time, I’d like to request a longer afterglow period before you turn into a n SVU detective.” She laughed and playfully nipped his shoulder as he flushed bright red. Then it registered and his eyes snapped to her face. 

“Next time?” he choked.   
   
“Sure. I mean… we are not doing the date-rape-thing again, probably, if it fucks with you that much… but I,” Lacey fell silent for a moment and looked away pensively. She took his hand from where it lay on the sofa and studied it intensely. “I also really liked the part I was awake for, you know?”  
   
“But… But what could you possibly have liked about that?” Barney questioned, his forehead drawn together in a cocktail of honest confusion and deep self-loathing.  
   
“Do you want me to tell you?” Lacey asked, kneading his broad, calloused hand with her determined but smaller fingers.  
   
“Please.”  
   
Lacey closed her eyes and leaned back against the couch cushions until she was sure that she could comfortably stretch out her upper body. She didn’t stop massaging Barney’s right hand and he found himself relaxing a little, watching the rise and fall of her chest. After several seconds of sitting in silence like this, Lacey’s breathing became quicker and she made a small sound that, for some reason, had Barney’s attention snap back to her lips.   
   
“I… I liked the feeling of danger and deep heaviness when I woke up and didn’t right away know where I was or what was happening. I liked that you were the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes. And then...” Lacey gave him that small sound again that made his breath hitch in his chest and wrapped her fingers more tightly around his hand. “...then I liked the panic… the panic that set in when I felt you in my mouth. The bitter taste and the hard weight of it mingled with my confusion were just… it was so good, Barney.” She stopped and opened her eyes to give him a look from under heavy eyelids that spoke of overwhelmed desire. When she started speaking again, her voice seemed husky and lazy.   
   
“Most of all, I liked how gentle you spoke to me and then how hard you fucked into me, Barney.” At hearing her say something so crude about them, Barney let out a small moan, moving his hand up her thigh when she pulled him towards her. “You know why I liked that so much?” She was looking into his eyes again and he was growing entirely too hot, letting go off her fingers and digging his hand into the soft flesh of her thigh. He shook his head.  
   
“It shows me that you couldn’t hold back, not even to spare me discomfort, that you forgot all about me and only thought of your own pleasure. And I really like that because… because I like to think that you used me… like a fucktoy.” Barney moaned and Lacey grasped for him and pulled him to her by his hair so that he was crouched over her, their foreheads leaning against each other, noses almost touching, their breathing heavy against each other’s lips.   
   
“More.” Barney gasped, his arm jerking down to grasp his still obscenely naked cock with the hand that wasn’t twisted into the flesh of her thigh. He was painfully hard already. “What else?”  
   
“When my mouth was filling with my spit and your precum and it was running down my chin and into my throat and you didn’t even slow down. You just kept pumping into me like I was nothing more than a wet fist to you.”  
   
With a groan, Barney released Lacey’s thigh to grab the edge of the couch behind her head. He lifted his arse, so that his cock, angry and swollen, was on one level with his Lacey’s beautiful and filthy, filthy mouth. Looking up into his strained face, Lacey whimpered and turned her face towards his frantic movement, all the while not breaking their eye-contact.   
   
“When I started gagging I could feel you pushing in so deeply and I imagined the bulge that you could see on my throat where you where pressing into me. The head of your dick felt so soft but at the same time it was so very, very hard and I felt so helpless, like you could do anything you wanted with me.”   
   
Barney movements were uncontrolled now, his hips jerking into his fist. So when Lacey stuck out the tip of her tongue to lick her lips and it accidentally touched the slit of his cock, Barney lost control. He let go of the couch and once more grabbed for her hair, angling her head so that her white, angelic face was right below his swollen dick, Lacey’s mouth hanging open, panting in little gasps mere centimeters from his shaking balls. From here, he could see the dried remains of his first load on her chin and he imagined what she would look like covered in several layers of his cum, having been used for hours.

Still, she was looking at him and panting. “When I couldn’t breathe and you came down my throat,” she moaned "that was so… so g-good, because you forced me to cough and all your cum came out my little nose.” At this, Barney gave a distraught shout and came, his grip on Lacey’s hair tightening and pulling it down so that he could hold her in the right place when spurts of warm cream shot out of him to coat her cheeks, nose and eyelids. 

When afterwards they lay down together on the ruined couch and he, still caught in post-coital bliss, rubbed his thumb over her sticky cheek and let her suck it clean for him, he thought of his brother rubbing cum on another cheek and groaned in shame.


	3. Sunday Mornings

Living a nocturnal life wasn’t easy. Getting a good days sleep under the rays of bright, unforgiving sunshine was hard. It took a high degree of planning and careful precautions. Which was why Lacey French had pretty much sunproofed her room with heavy roller blinds and a dark, light-absorbing carpet color. She had essentially build herself a modern, well-furnished cave and her sister never missed an opportunity to lovingly mock her for it.

Her sister.

Belle French was a natural enemy to nocturnal souls. Unfortunately, her sunny disposition meant that she was too sweet to dislike her for it. Which was why, when Belle opened the door to Lacey’s room with a loud bang and began letting hated sunlight in by opening the blinds, Lacey just groaned in protest and rolled onto her stomach to hide her face in her pillow.

“Please,” she muttered into the fabric, “Have mercy on me.”

“Oh, come on Lace, get up! It’s almost noon!” Belle said, opening the window to let some fresh air in. Naturally, she was already fully dressed in yellow, knee-length skirt and a white tank top.

“You say that as if it’s late,” protested Lacey, snuggling deeper into her blankets.

“I doubt you remember, but I was here two hours ago and you told me you would just take another five minutes of snoozing time.”

“I lied,” Lacey groaned. “It was a tactical decision.”

Belle chuckled at her sister’s antics and playfully crawled onto the bed, trying her best to imitate the Jaws theme song. Grasping her sister by the shoulders, she attempted to gently turn her around. “I made your favorite pancakes, you know. And there’s cartoons.”

“What cartoons?”

“Phineas and Ferb.”

“Hmpf,” Lacey made an undecided noise and squinted at the unwelcome guest in her now sunlight-flooded room. “Will there be coffee?”

“Tons!” Belle smiled. She gave her sister a kiss on her scrunched up nose, “Freshly brewed and as much as you can drink.”

“Alright then, I guess I’ll get up,” Lacey sighed and began to wrestle herself out of her blanket cocoon.

“I hate how you can be this cheerful in the mornings by the way. It makes me feel like an unproductive failure.”

She meant it. Having Belle as a sister was a delight but it also meant constantly questioning one’s general quality of character.

“A _gorgeous_ unproductive failure,” retorted Belle, jumping off the bed again to make her way downstairs and get their breakfast ready.“Who is deeply loved by all.”

Lacey couldn’t help but smile. She sat up with an overly dramatic sound of exhaustion and looked for something she could throw over her bra-clad self.

Twenty minutes later, Belle and Lacey were sitting side by side on their worn living room sofa with two king-sized bowls of fruit loops balanced in their laps. The remains of their pancake breakfast lay on the plates scattered around them. Thanks to three cups of coffee and Belle’s ridiculous impression of a platypus flipping fried eggs with its bill, Lacey was slowly waking up. She left the sofa to get more coffee and when she rejoined Belle, Lacey sat back down very slowly, trying to suppress a notable wince.

“What’s that about?” Belle asked curiously, scooping the last spoonful of fruit loops into her mouth.

“What’s what about?” Lacey gave back, hiding her face in her cup. She already had an inkling that Belle was on to her nightly activities.

“You flinching in pain every time you sit down,” Belle said with the patient tone of a kindergarten teacher. “It’s been super obvious since you’ve woken up, so don’t try and deny it. Are you and Barney into spanking?”

She giggled as if she’d made a ridiculous suggestion and jokingly bumped her elbow into Lacey’s side.

When Lacey just took another sip of her coffee and refused to look at her, Belle doubled down.

“I mean, I know you like him and it _did_ get pretty late last night. I just thought, I don’t know, maybe you would kiss first.” She laughed again.

Lacey just contemplated her coffee and remained silent. She swished the liquid around so that it almost spilled over the edge. When Belle continued to look at her, she smiled sheepishly.

“Well… we did.”

“No way!” Belle squealed excitedly, the empty cornflakes bowl almost falling out of her lap. “You did? Awww, Lacey! I’m so happy for you, I know you’ve wanted to kiss him for weeks.”

She reached for the remote and turned the television on mute. When she spoke next, her voice was lowered to a conspiratorial whisper.

“If I’m honest, I thought you two would never get around to it. Barney just seems so shy, you know? Like he wouldn’t even dare to take your hand.”

Lacey huffed in exasperated understanding and threw her head back dramatically.

“He is _so shy_! It took me ages to get him to make a move. And I had to maneuver him into a situation where he couldn’t possibly feel judged or scrutinize.” She smirked. “I must admit that I really enjoyed the outcome, though.”

Belle looked at her sister and smiled. “I’m just happy for you, Lace. Barney seems like a lovely guy. He looks at you like you’re his queen.” Satisfied, she leaned back on the couch, the bowl once again securely balanced between her thighs. “I really feel like you two might last.”

“Yeah, I know,” Lacey said, blushing a little. She put down her cup and grasped the wool blanket to wrap it more tightly around herself.

“So anyway, why the butthurt?”

“What?”

“Why is your butt hurting,” Belle grinned at her own pun, “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Oh.”

Lacey bit her lower lip, her sister’s expression curious and open.

“Uhh...” Lacey sighed, suddenly fascinated with the mute cartoon again.

“Yes?”, Belle asked impatiently.

Looking at her sister, Lacey tilted her head to the side and raised a meaningful eyebrow.

“You know…” she added a few general hand gestures to underline her point, “Things happened.”

Belle opened, then closed her mouth repeatedly. She looked honestly confused.

“What things?” she asked.

“Oh my god, Belle.” Lacey rolled her eyes and made a frustrated noise. “Think.”

Belle’s look didn’t change.

“Sorry, I really don’t get it. Did you fall off the bed during a make-out session or something?”

Lacey snorted and shook her head, her auburn curls shaking emphatically.

“No, Belle! We had sex!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up in frustration.

“In the bum?” Belle asked, looking aghast. Her eyes were wide and her mouth stood open in shock.

“Apparently.”

“What do you mean, _apparently_?”

“Um… I…”, Lacey stuttered.

She had to watch her mouth. While she hadn’t asked Barney about what exactly he had done to her while she’d been knocked out cold, she had deducted that they must have had anal sex from the way her ass was hurting. There was no way she could tell her sister about that, though. The fetish her and Barney had tried out last night wasn’t something Belle would be able to stomach. Consensual or not, her sister was much too innocent for things like that.

“I just mean _obviously_ we had anal sex. Why else would my ass be hurting, you rocket scientist.” Lacey rescued herself.

“Oh.”

Belle blinked and paused. She looked at her empty breakfast bowl once more, her hands distractedly playing along the rim.

“That just seems… a lot. To go from kissing for the first time to _that_.

“Belle French!” Lacey gasped, laying a hand over her heart in mock hurt. “Are you judging me!?”

“What? No!” Belle looked horrified and quickly grasped her sister’s shoulders to pull her closer.

“Definitely not! I’d never do that,” she hurried to say. “You should always do what you feel like doing and there is nothing wrong with it. If anything, it probably just means that you feel really comfortable with Barney and that you trust him.”

“Alright Bells, enough,” Lacey laughed and hugged the blabbering girl next to her. “It’s fine, I was just pulling your leg.”

Belle smiled, then looked at her with an air of doubt.

“Doesn’t…. you know…. that kind of thing hurt a lot? I mean, you still have trouble sitting down.”

“I didn’t feel any discomfort at the time. Definitely can’t remember it hurting or anything.” Lacey answered truthfully albeit not entirely open about the context of her sexual experience.

“Oh, okay. I would never have thought that.”

Belle seemed genuinely interested but when she pulled back from her sister, her face clouded over with something akin to sadness.

“I mean,” she mumbled in a self-deprecating tone, “I guess we can’t all be blushing virgins, right?”

“Ohh, stop!” Lacey reprimanded her sister, “You know that there is nothing wrong with waiting for the right time or the right guy. You said so yourself when Gary and you broke up. I for one am proud of you for holding your ground like that.”

“I know but-” Belle’s protest was interrupted by the shrill sound of the doorbell. Startled, she looked at her sister. “Are you expecting someone?”

Lacey shook her head.

“No, but maybe it’s Dad, back from one of his drunken sprees. Wouldn’t be the first time he lost his key.”

Annoyed at the prospect of having to deal with her inebriated father, Lacey got up to answer the door.

Her expectations weren’t fulfilled, however, when she opened it to reveal Mr. Gold, his face was cloudy and he was heavily leaning on his gold-handled cane with both of his hands. There was another man behind him, he seemed slightly shorter and had a impressive mustache that made his face look older than Gold’s. Nevertheless, Lacey immediately thought that with a face so similar to that of his siblings, he had to be Barney’s infamous second brother. Thinking of what she had been told about him, she tried to prevent a shudder from running down her back. Better not fuck with that guy, she thought. Instead, Lacey turned to Gold.

The moment she met his eyes and saw his gloomy expression change to surprise, she remembered the state of her dress. When Belle had lured her down for breakfast, Lacey had thrown on the first thing she had encountered on the floor of her room, a black Gun’s and Roses shirt that barely covered her ass. Now, she was standing before their landlord on a Sunday afternoon with bare legs and a shirt that definitely wasn’t long enough to hide the edge of her blue panties.

“Mr. Gold.” she said politely, remembering that she probably needed to talk.

“Ms. French.” he answered with barely held back derision and some poorly-hidden judgment, his eyes taking in her attire. “Might I possibly talk to your father, please.”

“He’s not here.” she retorted curtly, pissed off by the way he didn’t even try to make her feel okay about her appearance. Behind Gold, the man with the mustache grunted and started to massage his fist with his other hand. When their eyes met, he licked his lips. Returning her attention to Gold, she asked: “Can I take a message?”

Mr. Gold straightened and slowly shook his head without breaking eye-contact. “No, unfortunately the situation isn-”

“Mr. Gold!” Belle had appeared in the hallway, glancing over Lacey’s shoulder and smiling at their unexpected visitor. “What a nice surprise to see you!”

Lacey’s eyes twitched as she controlled an eye-roll.

“Ms. French.” Mr. Gold returned her greeting, his voice warm and his head inclined in her direction. He even had a small smile on his face. Lacey couldn’t believe how someone was able to say the same name in two such extremely different tones.

“We didn’t expect you to show up,” Belle said behind her, her face turning worried for a second “Did I forget a shift at the shop?”

Raised an appeasing hand, Gold shook his head. “No, dearie, don’t worry. I’m here about the rent.”

Belle stopped short.

“But wasn’t rent due yesterday?”

“Exactly, my dear.” Gold replied, his nose scrunching up in contempt. “Your father thought it advisable to act like he’d payed in full. When I checked the envelope, however, his payment was eighty dollars short. I made it clear to him that this was unacceptable and he promised me he’d recompense me today.”

His face darkened, his eyes dark and beady. “It seems he hasn’t turned up.”

“He’s probably at a bar or at the docks, drinking away what he owes you.” Lacey spat out, her voice bitter. “I suggest you check the Rabbit Hole. Good Luck!”

To the appalled gasp of her sister, she moved to close the door on their two visitors.

With a fluid motion that was impressive in both speed and strength, the man behind Gold put a hand on the smooth surface of the door and threw it backwards, the brunt of the rebound taking Lacey by surprise. Barely in time, she managed to pull her head back and avoid a collusion with the swinging wood.

“What the fuck dude, watch it!” she shouted indignantly. “You almost hit me in the face with that.”

The man sneered, his mustache curving. Suddenly, he grabbed Lacey by the front of her shirt and pulled her towards him, Belle letting out a shocked cry behind them.

“If ye dinnae pay up reit noo, Ah promise ye mah fist wilnae miss anither time!”

Lacey froze, she could feel his breath on her face. It smelled like cigarettes and booze. Standing quiet and motionless, her breath shallow, Lacey couldn’t think of a thing to say or do. She really hadn’t expected this and it didn’t seem like Gold had either because in the next moment, he had quickly yanked his brother away from her, looking displeased.

Lacey took a step back inside the apartment and turned to Belle. Her sister looked like she might start crying, her eyes big and shiny.

“That behavior won’t be necessary.” Gold snarled into the silence, pulling his brother even further back by the cuff of his jacket. Addressing him directly, he announced, “I’m sure we can find a peaceful solution to this little problem.”

Gold turned back towards the door and saw Belle’s white face, noticed that she was visibly shaking.

“I’m very sorry Ms. French, my brother has a quick temper. This was highly inappropriate.” he assured her emphatically, “Obviously, we would never harm you. I really can only apologize.”

He stressed this by laying a hand on his chest and indicating what looked to Lacey like a half-bow. “And so will my brother, of course.”

“Whit?!” scoffed the man in question, looking at Gold like he’d lost his mind.

Lacey could see that Mr. Gold was fuming.

“You,” he hissed quietly, his voice becoming unmistakably threatening “Will apologize.”

His brother’s expression changed from mockery to reluctance. Like a rebuked child, he finally turned to face Lacey.

“Aam sorry,” he said, his eyes and voice telling her that he wasn’t feeling anywhere near repentant in the slightest.

Lacey nodded uncomfortably.

“Well,” Mr. Gold stated cheerfully into the newly created silence after he had made sure that Belle had stopped trembling, “now that all that is sorted, I’d like to return to the issue at hand.”

Lacey couldn’t believe this fucker.

“Mr. Gold” Belle murmured gently, moving half a step forward and shyly raising a hand as if she was in class. “I’ll certainly be happy to pay you the missing amount from my own pocket. It’s terribly embarrassing that you have to even come here. If you’d be fine with waiting here for a moment, I have to run up to my room to get my purse.”

Gold inclined his head, giving her a well-meaning smile. “It’s a shame that a lovely girl like you has to suffer under the burden that is your useless pig of a father, Ms. French. Please take your time, I am not in a hurry.”

Belle had become red in the face from embarrassment when Gold had insulted her father, but now nodded and turned to hurry up the stairs of their small flat. Gold looked at her swinging hips, his gaze following the curve of her ass, a fact Lacey noticed with a mental shudder. Nothing good could come of Gold’s eye falling on her sister.

Briefly, Lacey thought about excusing herself, but decided it wouldn’t be wise in these circumstances and therefore continued standing at the door in awkward silence. Just as she thought she’d get away without speaking to them, Gold’s brother spoke up.

“Aam Franco, by th' wey.” he said, holding his hand out as if they were civilized people now.

Out of sheer surprise and for a lack of better options, Lacey took it.

“I’m Lacey.”, she replied, perplexed.

To her mortification, Franco didn’t let go of her hand right away, but instead raised it up to press a wet kiss on her skin, the hair of his moustache scraping along the back of her hand. Weirded out, Lacey pulled her hand back from his grasp and instinctively wiped it on her shirt.

“Tis a pleasure tae meit ye, lassie.” Franco smirked and looked her over with an strange look in his eye, giving Lacey a dirty wink that made her throw up a bit in her mouth. “Especially whin yer lookin’ lik thes.”

Before Lacey could fathom a reply, Belle was bouncing down the stairs. She stretched out a hand towards Gold, holding a bundle of notes. “It’s all there, Mr. Gold.”

Gold smiled, focusing his attention on Belle.

“I’m sure it is, dear.”

He tucked the money away inside his coat, then looked up once more, his eyes still fixed on Belle alone.

“Enjoy your Sunday.” he said.

 

 

 

“Such a major creep.” exclaimed Lacey as soon as the men’s footsteps had rung silent on the stairs.

“Who, that mustached guy? Yeah, he is very weird.” agreed Belle emphatically. “And scary… I guess Mr. Gold uses him to intimidate the people who don’t pay. I'm sure that he’d never allow him to hurt someone, though.”

“Oh please, Belle. I meant it’s Gold who is creepy!” Lacey couldn’t believe her sister’s naivety when it came to Gold. Belle was so smart, how could she not see that Gold’s mask of civility was just that? A mask.“That other guy is probably just insane. He’s his brother by the way, I’m surprised you didn’t notice the similarity between them.”

“Mr Gold is not creepy. He is very respectable and an honorable member of the community.” Belle protested impatiently. She looked disgusted. “That other man looked nothing like him! Mr. Gold looks elegant and sophisticated, that guy was just horrible looking.”

When she saw her sister's doubtful face, Belle abruptly turned around as if to avoid their conversation.

“Like a low-class hooligan.” she muttered while walking towards their abandoned television spot.

Lacey scoffed derisively and followed Belle into the living room, crossing her arms in front of her.

“So, like Gold but without all the money.”

Belle, who had picked up the empty plates and bowls from their breakfast, turned around to point an accusing finger at her sister.

“If they look the same, then Barney looks the same, too!”

Lacey pulled a face.

“No he doesn’t.”

Leaning against the door frame, her face took on a dreamy expression.

“Barney is sweet and kind and has the most _wonderful_ face. His hair is amazing, too. His eyes are so dark and gentle and-”

“They are brothers, they literally have the same face, the same hair and the same eyes.” Belle objected, clearly exasperated.

“AHA!” Lacey exclaimed in triumph and smiled, extending a triumphant fist into the air. “You admit it! A minute ago you were denying that they looked similar.”

“Well...” Belle admitted good-naturedly, now smiling a bit against her will. “It still makes for very different appearances.”

“Definitely!” Lacey grinned, leaving her position at the door to help her sister with the dishes. “We can agree on that.”

She took a plate and a bowl out of Belle’s outstretched hand and gave her sister a kiss on the cheek before making her way towards the kitchen.

“Let’s just say that we fancy very different types of the same model, hm?”

“I don’t fancy any model,” she heard Belle grumble behind her.

“Sure, you don’t, Bells,” Lacey laughed indulgently. “Sure you don’t.”

 

 

 

There was an unpleasant silence in the car as Gold and Begbie made their way back towards the shop. Begbie had rolled down a window and was holding one arm outside, a cigarette in his hand. He didn’t understand the tension that had flared up between them since he’d threatened that pretty lass when they collected the money. Wasn’t this what his brother had “hired” him for? Normally, Gold was just fine with his methods, regardless of the age or gender of his victim. Confused and annoyed by the undeserved anger in the air, Begbie took another drag of his cigarette.

Gold regarded him from the side, his gaze unreadable but dark. He looked at the road again and narrowed his eyes.

“You will not display threatening behavior in front of Ms. French again.” he said, his tone a clear warning that his orders weren’t to be questioned. “She is my employee, I won’t have her be scared of you.”

“Whilk yin?”, asked Begbie, snipping the ashy end of his cigarette out of the open window.

“What?” Gold responded irritably, his face turning back to Begbie.

“Whilk lassy dae ye mean?” Begbie was growing impatient with his brother’s anger, he really hadn’t done anything to deserve it. “I cannae weel follow yer orders if ye dinnae teel me thes afair.”

“Yes, alright.” Mr. Gold conceded grudingly, holding up a hand before gripping the steering wheel a little harder. “Maybe I should have been more clear, talked to you beforehand.”

They stopped at a red light and Begbie used the opportunity to throw the rest of his cigarette out onto the street, rolling up the window. He stuck his hand into the pocket of his pants, wrapping it around the calming weight of his switchblade.

“I mean the decent looking one,” clarified Gold, leaning back in his car seat.

Begbie smirked and looked at his brother with a twinkle in his eyes. “They’ur baith bonnie gid lookin’, ey? Th' legs 'n' tits oan’at ur foremaist class.”

Gold gave him an eye-roll, looking slightly pleased. “I meant as in decency of character.”

“A'richt.” Begbie said. “Th'ither yin cannae be tae decent, ah gie ye’at. Nae efter whit happened lest nicht.”

“What do you mean?” Gold frowned, starting the car as the light turned green again. “What happened last night?”

“Ahh, naethin'. Juist that ah foond th' lassie drugged up oan Barney’s cooch.” Franco chuckled.

Remembering the evening, he palmed his crotch with the hand not holding his switchblade as his cock began feeling heavy in his pants.

“Ah got reit in thare 'n' used ‘er lik’a guid jyle whoor. Ah dinnae think she kens, fae th' looks o' it.”

Gold looked surprised, but grinned, the story seeming to amuse him. “What the hell did Barney do when you were fucking his date?”

“Ach,” Franco announced, his eyes mischievous. “Ye ken Barney. He didnae dae naethin’. Juist gaed 'n' git me some fags.”

He leaned over towards his brother, his tone companionable.

“Ah dinnae mynd sharing, ye ken. Mibbie we kin drug th' ither yin, tae. Mak' it a pairtie.”

Suddenly, the car swerved violently to side, Begbie being pulled to the edge of his seat, before his head painfully collided with the window. When he had caught himself, they were already parked on the side of the road, a hard gun pushing into his temple.

Gold’s eyes were cold and unforgiving.

“If you ever, _ever_ , lay so much as a finger on Belle French, I will kill you without any questions asked. Do you understand?”

“A-aye…. ” Begbie said, his voice trembling with fear. He didn’t dare to look at his brother.

After what felt like an eternity, Gold nodded.

“Good.” he said cheerfully, lowering the gun as if nothing had happened. “What about lunch? I am starving.”

 


	4. Tea Time

On Monday morning, Belle arrived at the shop exactly fifteen minutes before Storybrook’s clock tower rang seven. Mr. Gold didn’t tolerate tardiness, a lesson Belle had learned the hard way when she had started her employment at the pawnshop. The first (and only) time she had been late to work, Mr. Gold had told her that it saddened him to know how unimportant their working relationship was to her, then barely given her the time of day for a whole week. By Friday, Belle had felt lonely, stressed and generally horrible about herself. She had thought about quitting throughout the entire weekend and had felt immeasurable relief when, on Monday morning, Mr. Gold had greeted her with his usual smile and a cup of Granny’s hot coffee (her favorite, with cinnamon and extra milk). Since then, Belle had always made sure to arrive with several minutes to spare.

Although the sign facing her still said _C_ _losed_ , the door opened when she tried the handle and Mr. Gold was already standing behind the counter, thumbing through a thick ledger before him and occasionally writing something down in a smaller notebook. He was dressed in a particularly elegant black suit today, his tie and pocket square the color of blood. Hearing the bell ring at her entry, he briefly looked up and gave her a warm-eyed smile.

“Good morning, Mr. Gold,” she greeted him, her voice gentle.

“Good morning Ms. French, I’ll be done here in a second,” he said, already looking down at the book before him again, “Feel free to begin with the floor, I’ll start on the tea right after I’ve cataloged the rent payments.”

“Just make sure I don’t hit you with my mop,” Belle agreed jokingly, smiling back at him.

Mr. Gold huffed in mock outrage and threw his hair back with a small tilt of his head. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll be out of your way by the time you make it to this part of the room,” he assured her, his eyebrows furrowing over a particularly tricky calculation.

Belle entered the back room to hang up her jacket and safely store her bag away in a corner. She had often marveled at the fact that Mr. Gold was able to do even the most complicated calculations in his head. Back when he had still been running his flower shop, her father had never been able to keep his numbers straight, heavily relying on a calculator till the day that he had lost the business to his horrible drinking habit. He had gone missing for three days after they had dragged him out of the shop, only to come home with a bloodied, broken nose, drugged out of his mind. Belle sighed miserably at the memory. It was no use thinking about the past, she told herself, not when there was work to do.

Resolutely, she took a bucket and mop out of the supply closet next to the sink, filling the former with warm water and adding a few drops of cleaning agent. Ignoring the floor around the counter to avoid bothering her boss, Belle headed to the door to begin her work. When she’d mopped her way across the room and was just about to say something, Mr. Gold closed the books before him with a satisfying thud and shot her one of his wry smirks.

“Told you,” he said with mischief in his voice, pointing a finger in her direction. “Your mopping powers aren’t strong enough to catch me.”

“I’ll train harder, then,” Belle laughed, and Mr. Gold gave her a little nod, his hand taking up the cane that had been leaning against the wall behind him.

“Til our next duel, then,” he said, winking at her and giving her a formal bow that made her giggle sweetly.

He turned around to make his way towards the back, presumably to start their morning routine, but suddenly stilled as if he had remembered something. Turning back, he addressed her once more, sounding hesitant.

“Ms. French, I… I feel the need to apologize for yesterday just one more time, I-”

“That really isn’t neces-” Belle tried to interrupt him.

“Let me finish,” he warned, his tone suddenly rigid.

Belle instantly obeyed, the reprimand making her blush. She had always been a considerate person, and hated to come off as impolite anyway, but Mr. Gold had a way of really making her feel her indiscretions. He paused, making sure that his rebuke had sunk in, before speaking again, his gaze lingering on her bowed head.

“As I said, I want to apologize to you in particular. I had neglected to speak to my brother before our visit and so he assumed you were an ordinary tenant which, of course - you are not.”

At this, Belle looked up and saw that he was still regarding her intensely. Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, he covered the handle of his cane with his hands and continued.

“I’d never expect you not to give me what you owe me, Ms. French. The beastliness you witnessed was entirely uncalled for and… I’m sorry.”

Belle smiled coyly, the heat in her cheeks lessening at his kind words. Waiting to make sure that he’d expressed all he wanted to say, Belle extended an arm and covered Mr. Gold’s hands with one of her own.

“Thank you, really, that’s wonderful of you to say. But it is me who needs to apologize,” she said earnestly. “This is the third time my father hasn’t paid the rent on time, even though both Lacey and I have been giving him additional money! We’ll clearly have to handle the rent ourselves from now on.” Belle exhaled audibly. “I promise you it won’t happen again.”

Mr. Gold nodded grimly.

“Yes, I’ve noticed that your father’s financial…” he paused to think of a word, “… _situation_ has been challenging recently. It's unacceptable to me that you’d have to come up with the rent on your own if you are already supporting him with your hard-earned money. If you want me to, I could try and have a word with him about his…”, here Mr. Gold paused again and lifted a hand from his cane to make a vague waving motion, his mouth twisting in contemplation, “… _budgeting_.”

Although she felt embarrassed about Mr. Gold’s knowledge of her father’s alcoholism, Belle felt her heart swell with thankfulness and warmth at his considerate gesture. It was the moments in which this grumpy man before her showed such love and care for her that made her certain there was more to Mr. Gold than a ruthless businessman. If only people in town could see him like this, if only her _sister_ could see him like this. They would easily understand why Belle had a soft spot for him and Lacey could finally stop calling him a degenerate creep.

Behind his mask of coldness and indifference, her boss was a compassionate and thoughtful man and Belle felt honored to know that they were close enough for him to show this side of himself to her.

“Thank you, Mr. Gold,” she responded. “But that really isn’t necessary. Dad is still contributing the lion share of the rent and we will manage to pay the rest just fine.”

"Well,” he said helplessly, looking doubtful, and her heart grew a little more. “You know you can come to me if that ever changes, Belle.”

With that, he turned around and opened the curtain to the back room, vanishing from sight.

“Anyway,” she heard him sing-song ceremonially, trying to lighten the mood, “there is music to be played and floors to be polished.”

Left behind, Belle smiled sheepishly. For about a month now, they had had a morning routine, a practiced dance if one wanted to call it that. Belle would come in and mop the floor, then polish it while Mr. Gold put a record on the gramophone, something classical with violins and piano music. He’d make tea for them, timing it so that it was ready just when she had finished her polishing work. Belle genuinely loved drinking tea with him in the mornings, it gave her a small break after the physical cleaning work and enabled them to enjoy some quiet time before the first customers wandered into the shop. The delicate, blue and white tea set they used made her feel like a princess rather than a boring, small town shop assistant. Mr. Gold generally had a way of making her feel special, Belle thought.

Smiling and moving her hips to the first sounds of an old orchestral record, Belle reached for the polishing cloth.

  


  


After he had put the kettle on, Gold grabbed the small china jug from the tea set and settled into his customary spot on the little cot in the back. Feeling a dull pain, he grabbed his knee and and felt downwards until he reached the coiled tightness of his scarred leg. He massaged the muscle with strong fingers while he thought about the conversation he’d just had.

It would have been better had she agreed to let him have a word with her father, he thought. Then again, his offer to help should be enough to let him earn her good will and it wasn’t as if he had any real interest in helping her father with his many problems. On the contrary, the worse Moe French got, the better. If he couldn’t provide for his family, didn’t add any income to the household, the apartment would soon become unsustainable for the young sisters who wanted to save money for college. The day Moe French finally disappeared for good into the world of drugs and gambling would be the day that he, Rumford Gold, would hold all the power.

 _And if that doesn’t happen soon_ , he thought, _I might just_ _be forced to have_ _the fool killed_.

The pain in his leg had lessened and he decided that it was time to turn towards more pleasurable activities. Pulling his phone out of his suit pocket, he opened the small black and red application that read  _SimpliSecure_ and waited impatiently for the black screen to load. Finally, the video feed came to life and Mr. Gold’s relaxed notably, leaning back in the cot. The small rectangle in his hand showed Belle French, positioned on all fours in the front room,  industriously working a cloth along the floor. 

T he single fact that she was doing this, polishing the floor  _daily_ , made a pleasurable shiver run down Gold’s spine. What sane employee would agree to polish the same floor every damn day of the week? Considering the limited size of his shop, the chore was comically unnecessary. He had first suggested  it to her in order to test the limits of her obedience and he’d honestly expected that she’d flat out refuse to do it, originally planning on making her comply twice a week so that she’d slowly get used to not questioning him or his orders. To his endless surprise and delight, she had studiously agreed almost instantly,  clearly seeking his approval.

And wasn’t that just delightful.

Spreading his legs and slowly opening his fly with one hand, Mr. Gold groaned quietly. Today, Belle wore a tight gray pencil skirt and the picture this wardrobe choice created on the screen of his phone had him hard with only a few tucks of his practiced hand. The camera offered him a perfect perspective today, her ass directly facing it, enabling him to watch the rhythmic thrusts of her hips. The imprint of her butt cheeks became more pronounced every time she leaned backwards while scrubbing the floor.

Although Mr. Gold had masturbated to the glorious jiggle of her breasts countless times, ass days were his favorite perspective, the position Belle was in making it easy for him to imagine taking her from behind. If he did overpower her now, it would be easy to hike up her skirt, quickly pull her panties down and enter her before she ever even had a chance to react. Maybe she would try though, he thought, struggling and trying to crawl away from him. Belle would scream and cry as he entered her, she’d beg him to stop and he’d fuck her till exhaustion silenced her protests, her cum-covered body motionless on the polished floor.

The thought made him fist his cock harder.

Letting his member go for a second, he raised his hand to his mouth and spit a generous amount of saliva into his palm. Watching as Belle straightened momentarily to catch her breath, he smeared the fluid around the length of his cock, his hand sliding along his dick in slow, firm strokes. Someday, he’d make her kneel before him the way she sat on the floor right now, her ass resting on her heels, her head turned upward, her mouth slightly open as a sign that she was offering herself to him.

No, he thought while he ran a thumb over the swollen slit of his cock’s head, collecting a few drops of whitish precum, he wouldn’t rape her. He’d make her kneel for him. This was his ultimate fantasy, his ultimate goal. It would take time of course and patience, he’d have to romance her, make her fall in love with him. He was older than her and might not be her obvious choice but he knew that a few well-placed flowers, thoughtful compliments and expensive dinners would give him the opportunity he needed. Belle would see him as an experienced and caring man who she could trust, a man she was already used to giving power over her. He’d be the perfect candidate for her first time and he’d begin that night treating her lovingly, carefully making her feel safe and comfortable. There’d be pain when he thrust himself into her unexpectedly and she’d surely cry but she would just as surely forgive him if he told her that it wasn’t his fault, that men lost control during sex and there was nothing they could do about it.

After all, how could she know any better than him, her caring and experienced lover.

Gold began to pump himself faster as he thought about the next stage of his plan. There’d be holes in the condoms, of course, and she’d eventually fall pregnant with his child. After that she’d have to marry him and give up her indulgent fantasy of becoming a teacher. Massaging his angry cock, he sneered at the thought of her ambitions. Her place had never been in the classroom but at his feet and her education would be reduced to the most important purposes of her life, raising his children, sucking his cock and spreading her legs. He’d breed her and make her bear more of his children, all while slowly bending her to his will, training her to let him use her without question.

Gold could feel himself nearing his peak, his eyes fixed on Belle’s titillating body moving rhythmically in the next room. He was quickly losing control now, his hips pressing upwards into his shaking hand in unsteady thrusts.

And one day, he thought, his unabashed moans masked by the violins of Prokofiev’s Dance of the Knights, they’d watch their kids leave for college and Belle would gaze at him lovingly, stretched wide open by his children and his cock. Then, and only then, would he chain her to the cellar wall and let Begbie have a go at her.

Imagining the delicious look of betrayal and pain on her face, Gold fumbled for the milk jug next to him and spilled himself into it with one last, earth-shattering groan. After the first wave of his orgasm had subsided, he made sure to slowly milk his cock with his thumb and index finger, collecting the last drops of fluid using the rim of the jar, his body feeling warm and heavy with ecstasy.

For a moment, Gold allowed himself to stay in the cot, unmoving, basking in the glorious feeling of his afterglow, but soon the music started to become calmer and he knew that it was coming to an end. Reluctantly, he sat up at the edge of the bed and carefully placed the soiled jug on the side table before he zipped himself up and closed the security application, sliding his phone back into his pocket. Standing up, Gold took up the container with his cum and crossed the room, placing it on the tea tray he had prepared earlier. Whistling along with the fading music, he filled the jug up with milk, taking a small silver spoon and carefully stirring the mixture until it looked like one homogeneous liquid. Finally, he took the kettle from the stove, added black tea to it and placed it on the portable hearth that was already on the tray. Once more looking over his work and feeling satisfied with what he saw, Gold stuck his head through the curtain.

“The tea is ready, my dear,” he announced, watching as Belle collected the polishing agent from the floor.

She turned around and gave him a grateful look, “Thank God, I’m parched.”

“Will you have yours with or without milk?”, Gold asked politely.

“Milk, as always,” Belle answered, smiling, and Mr. Gold smiled back at her.

  


  


  


[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/154155298@N02/40989247155/in/dateposted-public/)


	5. Guilt Trip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry that this took so long guys! Enjoy :)

Lacey was feeling tired as fuck.

Belle had woken her up when she left for work, planting an encouraging kiss on Lacey’s grumpy forehead and positioning a strategic cup of coffee next to the bed, a valiant effort that had earned her nothing but an unintelligible mumble of protest and impressively defensive snoozing. Five minutes after Belle had left the house, however, the wonderful aroma of coffee had eventually made its way towards Lacey’s blanket-huddled form and entered her brain through her nostrils, one by one convincing every single one of her neurons of the benefits of consciousness.

After a short while of primal slurping sounds, an entangled symbiosis of pillow and person, the former pressed tightly against face and torso of the latter, stumbled its way towards the bathroom.

Coffee was a miracle.

Considering that taking a shower was supposed to have an equally stimulating effect on the body, Lacey felt surprisingly unimpressed with the warm liquid that was currently running down her back. Sighing, she turned off the tap and got out of the stall to dry herself. She might not be able to rely on water to wake her up and make her look forward to a day’s work, she thought, but the promise of seeing Barney again certainly did the job.

In less than an hour, she would kiss him on the cheek and he would smile at her, looking at her with one of those expressions that made her heart feel all fluttery and light. Maybe there would even be time for them to share another quick cup of coffee afterwards, as the shop wasn’t usually busy in the mornings. Then she’d tell him about his brothers’ visit to the apartment and gossip about Gold and Begbie, telling him in no uncertain terms that she thought he was by far the best man his family had to offer. Maybe, if it was a really slow day, they could even make out in the back of the shop for a while. She hadn’t even realized it until Belle had asked her, but Barney and her hadn’t actually kissed yet. Not that she had told Belle that, it just didn’t seem easy to explain how her and Barney had been so intimate without kissing first.

Smiling at the memory of their last evening, Lacey distractedly flung the towel she had used to dry herself off in the general direction of the abandoned self-help pillow and quickly walked back into her bedroom to examine her naked form in the mirror. Although Belle and her looked almost identical when clothed, her sister’s body was a bit more toned, like that of a ballet dancer, while Lacey was build in the kind of slim and soft manner that stemmed from good genes being paired with too little exercise and irregular meals. Lacey sighed and ran her hands down along her arms, feeling the width of her body and the sharpness of her elbows.

It wasn’t a big deal to her that she was skinnier than her sister, after all she wasn’t insecure about her body and she generally didn’t compare herself to others, but she knew that it probably wouldn’t hurt to pay a bit more attention to her health. In fact, Barney had scolded her when she had first started working in the barbershop, noticing early on that Lacey tended to forget about trivial matters such as lunch breaks, too busy talking to him about the latest gossip or excitedly planning their free evenings, inventing drinking games and loudly thinking about which shows to watch next. Soon, he had started bringing additional sandwiches to work, offering them to her when she forgot to bring her own food and making sure to remind her to take another bite in between sentences.

It had worked, Lacey thought happily as she deliberately ran her fingers down between her breasts, exploring the skin of her chest and stomach. Her frame might still look thin but at least it no longer looked malnourished, tentative curves now softly wrapping sharp rips and replacing jutting hip bones.

Turning slightly to the side, she noticed that the dim light of the room was enough for her to see the pink marks on her buttocks that bore silent witness to the change in her and Barney’s relationship. She gasped in surprise, when upon closer inspection, she noticed teeth marks on her right butt cheek. Lacey bit her lip, a pleasant little shudder running up her spine. Who knew that Barney could be so rough, so passionate? She had certainly been pleasantly surprised. Throughout the weekend, Lacey had imagined how he must have looked that night, disheveled and panting, his trousers around his ankles. Had he lain on top of her while he did it, his weight bearing down on her? Or had he knelt behind her, her ass propped up for his pleasure on his worn leather couch. Had he watched her sleeping face distort with unconscious reflexes, or pressed it into the sofa cushions, uninterested in any sensations that weren’t his own?

She rubbed her thighs together, the picture of him panting above her rocking body making her wet with desire.

While Lacey had washed her face in Barney’s small, bleak bathroom before she left, her bum had still been sticky with his semen once she'd arrived home, and she'd had to take a sneaky shower before going to bed, carefully tip-toeing around the apartment so as not to wake her sister. She’d enjoyed washing the dried streaks of his cum from her skin, feeling like a detective piecing together a case. The evidence suggested that he must have finished across her buttocks, the soreness and light pain of her body leaving no doubt about how he’d come to his completion, and it gave her a more detailed idea of what had happened while she was sleeping. Lacey gave her reflection a cheeky grin and a pat on the bum. Today, she couldn’t help but feel good about herself. The lines of her body felt more sensual to her and for a virgin, she felt pretty accomplished. Not only had Barney’s cum been on her face and ass, she thought, but she couldn’t wait to do it again. Considering how anxious she’d felt when she had first suggested the whole thing to him, she felt almost foolish now that she had done it. Sex really wasn’t something to be nervous about if it involved someone that she loved and trusted. The fact that he hadn’t taken her virginity after all didn’t bother her much, although she had certainly planned it differently, originally hoping for her _first time_ to happen while she was out so that she could skip the awkwardness and discomfort everybody had talked of. Now that she’d lost some of her self-consciousness and fear, however, her thoughts on the matter had changed. There would be time for everything, she decided happily, amused at how eager she felt. Opening her wardrobe to rummage for an outfit worthy of her mood, she decided that she wanted to _really_ sleep with Barney as soon as she could, but would play it cool regardless. She had a reputation to lose and didn’t want to scare him of by being too clingy or acting like a clueless virgin.

Men his age liked experienced women, after all, and patience was a virtue.

 

 

When Lacey arrived at the barbershop, Barney was already serving a customer and she realized who it was before even entering the shop, an aggravated sigh leaving her lips. Dr. Whale was a harmless guy, dirty jokes, annoying pick-up lines and wandering eyes forming the full extent of his depravity, but she had hoped for some alone time with Barney before they were forced to act professional in front of a customer. Shrugging and consoling herself with the sight of Barney’s broad shoulders and heavy belly in the tight, dark-red barber’s attire, she opened the door with one outstretched arm and bounced inside the cool shop, grinning at them both.

“Good morning!” she exclaimed joyously, quickly crossing the tile-covered floor to throw her bag into the backroom with a heavy thunk, the disturbed bead curtain making a melodic rattling sound.

Barney followed her movements with a gentle turn of his head and a small smile on his lips, his puppy eyes looking at her with an open expression of silent devotion as he paused in his work, the slide of his shaving blade along Whale’s jaw momentarily interrupted.

“Good morning,” he answered quietly, his gaze still fixed on her when she turned around to face him.

His quiet, intense focus on her made Lacey feel shy, and her knees became weak under his watchful eyes. Twisting her fingers into the fabric of her black and gold t-shirt dress, she coyly lowered her gaze, biting her lip. Why did he always look so stern and forbidding in his uniform, even now when he smiled at her? Maybe it was because she associated his clothing with the few moments of absolute dominance that she had seen Barney display in front of other people. The lines of his face and the air of his posture becoming positively threatening when a customer became too insolent, loud-mouthed or otherwise behaved inappropriately. Barney’s job and professionalism seemed to give him a steely strength that he didn’t possess anywhere else in his life and Lacey was decidedly turned on by it.

 _Well, he certainly displayed that strength somewhere else in his life recently_ , she corrected herself, remembering the feeling of strong hands cradling her head. The thought made her blush and she was thinking of something to say to him when she heard an over-enthusiastic male voice cut through the moment.

“And a good morning to you, Lace,” Whale interrupted, prompting Barney to take up his work again, “It’s always a delight when one is allowed to lay eyes upon a beautiful young lady as yourself.” He gave her what he no doubt believed to be his winning smile. “It’s a great selling point for this shop, actually.”

If Lacey hadn’t still had her head bowed slightly towards the ground, she would have seen the weird wink that accompanied Whale’s sleazy compliments and probably openly scoffed at him. Instead, he just earned an imperceptible eye-roll that he didn’t seem to notice see. She hated his nickname for her, it was a crude and stumped injustice to its melodic original, but Whale was definitely proud of it. He seemed to think it gave him a degree of intimacy with her that was very much a personal illusion and not based on reality.

“I’m not a lady,” Belle replied, her voice petulant as she walked closer to them, her boots heavy on the tile floor.

When she arrived behind the barber’s chair, Barney’s body heat now close enough to feel it on her skin, she reached out a hand to gently stroke along Barney’s back, careful not to let Whale see the gesture. Immediately, she could feel a brimming tension beneath her palm, muscles tightening and releasing along her touch beneath the stiff fabric. The strain didn’t seem to interfere with the skillfulness of Barney’s hands, however, which continued to wield his razor like knights would their swords.

Lacey forced a smile at Whale.

“And the best selling point for this place is clearly not me but the superb skill of its barber,” she stated.

“Certainly,” Whale agreed amiably, his attention not on Barney for a second, “He shaves me so closely, I look like I’m fresh out of high school.” He shrugged, lowering his voice to a mock whisper, sounding conspiratorial. “It speaks to the target audience, I guess, and I’m sure the ladies appreciate it. I mean, no one likes a rash between their legs, hey?”

Immediately, Barney groaned angrily, his face distorting into a revolted grimace.

“That’s fuckin’ _disgusting_ ,” he scolded Whale, jerkily wiping of excess shaving cream on the towel that was laid out over his shoulder, his accent growing stronger, “Watch ye fuckin’ language. I won’t allow ye tae say dirty shite like that in mah shop.”

His irate expression and the sharpness of his tone made Lacey close her eyes for a second. God, wasn’t she horny for him today. She shuffled to the side, trying to be as close to Barney as possible without being in his way. From here, she could smell his aftershave and the gel he used to slick back his hair, the scent sharp and heavy in her nose. She could see that the skin right above his shirt collar was slightly damp with perspiration, the gleam of it more pronounced in the tiny wrinkles of his throat. She wanted to bury her face in the crook of his neck while he took her against a wall.

Letting out a long, shaky breath of air, Lacey decided that she wouldn’t suffer on her own.

“Oh, come on Barney,” she said with false lightness in her voice, “We are all adults here, there is no harm in being honest about the pleasures of life.”

Whale laughed, delighted at her apparently taking his side, and nodded patronizingly, licking his lips while he stared at the swell of her breasts beneath her dress. Barney’s head had turned back towards her in stunned betrayal, his eyebrows drawn together in confusion, giving her a startled look at her disagreement. Lacey didn’t spare him more than a brief glance, not wanting to lose her courage.

“Speaking of the pleasures of life,” she continued, leaning forward and draping her left arm across the back of Whale’s chair in what she hoped conveyed flirtatious secrecy, finding his eyes in the mirror, “you wouldn’t believe how much fun I had this weekend.”

Now, Barney stilled entirely, his cream-covered razor frozen in mid-air, and Whale raised a surprised eyebrow, looking something between expectant and startled.

“Oh yeah?” he asked, his voice suddenly noticeably rougher.

“Mhm,” Belle affirmed with an appreciative moan, throwing her head back in exaggerated imitation of pleasure and trying to accentuate her next sentence as strongly as she could, “Best. fuck. of. my. life.”

Whale let forth a sound that was caught somewhere between surprised acknowledgment and undignified squeaking but Lacey didn’t pay him much attention. She was focused on the still motionless barber next to her whose dark eyes were boring into hers through the mirror, something dark glimmering in their depths. His dominant hand was gripping the razor tightly, white knuckles pressing against warm metal, the other had blindly grasped for support when he’d lost his bearings and was now also pressed against the back of Whale’s chair, his fingers close to hers, almost touching.

When, after the length of a few breaths, neither of the two men seemed to have caught themselves enough for a reply, Lacey threw caution to the wind, acting as if the blatant language she was using seemed entirely normal to her.

“Well, granted it was my first one, too,” she said, straightening her arms on top of the chair, her expression now modestly thoughtful. She giggled softly. “But if it’s true that first times suck than I am _really_ looking forward to spending more time on my back, you know.”

The men just stared at her in silence, any appearance of composure abandoned. Whale’s tongue shot out briefly to lick his lips and she could hear him swallow hard. Barney himself looked shaken and shocked, like someone had pulled the world from underneath him like a rug. Lacey frowned. This wasn’t the effect she’d intended her teasing to have on him. Did he truly abhor dirty language that much? Had she offended him somehow, turned him off of her? Suddenly, she felt unsure about herself again, hoping to God that he didn’t find her behavior repellent.

“Lacey,” Barney mumbled hoarsely and pulled his free hand away from its position next to hers, avoiding her eyes in the mirror, “I made a mess rummaging through the supply closet this morning, it’d be a great help if you could help me clean it up.”

His tone was distant and the professional look he gave her seemed comical considering the situation. Nevertheless, she knew him better than anyone by now and he still looked a bit shaken to her, his mouth slightly open in a gesture of insecurity and bafflement that no one but her would have noticed. Although she was confused and slightly taken aback by his response, she decided to go easy on him.

“Uhm, okay,” she agreed hesitantly, knowing as much as he did that they didn’t even have a supply closet, “I guess I’ll be in the back then. Have a nice day, Dr. Whale.”

Whale nodded, his expression still dumbfounded, like that of a man who’d gotten more than he’d asked for.

“See you around, Lacey.”

 

By the time Lacey heard the door bell ring and signal Whale leaving the shop a few minutes later, she was a nervous wreck. Lacking a supply closet, she’d decided to make herself useful by sweeping the floor and readying the bins to take them out later. Most of the hair and dirt stayed in the front room but some of it was always carried into the back under the soles of their shoes. She tried to remain calm, but her heart was pounding and her cheeks were flushed. What had she been thinking? She’d made a spectacle out of herself and now Barney was upset with her. Lacey swallowed and tried to suppress the feeling of anxiety and dread that was settling in her stomach like a stone.

When she heard him come in through the curtain, she was busying herself with the coffee machine in a corner of the room that formed their make-shift little kitchen, consisting of a small fridge, the coffee machine, an electric kettle and a short rack of assorted teas and biscuits. Taking a deep breath, she turned around to face him and saw that he’d stopped right behind the curtain, looking grim, something unreadable in his expression.

Fidgeting, with her hands pressed to her chest, Lacey bit her lip.

“Are you very upset with me?” she asked him, trying to sound casual about it and failing, the slight tremor in her words betraying her.

“What?” Barney asked, suddenly looking surprised, and for the first time since her daring stunt, Lacey saw his face open up again, his eyes wide with concern and love, “Why would I be upset with you, sweetheart?”

“Just because - I know you said you don’t like language like that and I did it anyway because I thought it was funny - a-and it was a stupid idea and I shouldn’t have done it. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable in front of a customer… I-I wasn’t thinking. I was trying to tease you, I’m sorry.”

Lacey was aware that she was rambling but she couldn’t help it. Her teasing didn’t seem witty to her anymore, just immature and embarrassing. She didn’t know what had made her behave like that. Riddled with insecurity, she hung her head in shame, wringing her hands and softly kicking the tiled floor with a restless boot. She could feel the vibrations of his steps as he came to stand before her and sighed unhappily when he took her hands in his, his bigger ones cradling hers like a baby bird that had fallen out of its nest.

“I’m an idiot,” she said, surprised at finding herself fighting back tears.

“Oh no, sweetheart, no, no,” Barney soothed her. He ran his hands up her arms, the callouses on his hands feeling good against her skin. “I-I didn’t mean to make you feel like that. I-I’m not mad at you at all.”

Lacey didn’t answer, still fighting against the warmth in her eyes and the lump in her throat, and when Barney tried to make eye-contact, she avoided his gaze, feeling guilty.

Barney sighed, concerned.

“I swear I’m not upset, sweetheart,” he tried to calm her, and Lacey felt his thumb gently caressing her cheek before he pulled his hand away to gesticulate, accentuating his point, “I-I don’t like swearing and dirty language from my customers because I don’t want them to brag about their conquests to me. But I don’t mind it from _you_.” He looked at her with clear sincerity, willing her to believe him. After a short pause, he nervously licked his lips,“I don’t mind at all.”

“W-Why would you send me to the back, then? And why did you look so upset with me?” Lacey asked, her voice still tiny but more calm now, confused about the mixed signals he had given her.

“Oh.” Barney replied, like he’d finally understood the reason for her distress, “That had nothing to do with what you said, Lacey. Well, it did, but it didn’t, you know.”

She looked at him in obvious confusion and he paused, seeming to think about his answer.

“I just didn’t like the way Whale looked at you... is all,” he said finally, his hand again rubbing along her arm reassuringly, “If I’m honest, he-he doesn’t act very respectable, for a doctor.”

Lacey couldn’t help but giggle at that, unshed tears making her sound more hoarsely than usual.

“Barney, I don’t think that _I_ usually act very respectable.”

The corner’s of Barney’s mouth curved into a tight-lipped smile.

“But you are,” he whispered lovingly, “I know that.”

They looked at each other in comfortable silence, both of them feeling lighter now, their affection for one another practically palpable in the air around them. No one would have ever called her respectable, Lace thought to herself, uncomfortable and delighted with his words at the same time. Before Barney had come to Storybrook, Lacey’s only close relationship had been with her sister. Lacey had always felt that the other residents of Storybrook didn’t seem to care for her much, no one attempting to get to know her better, instead depending on rumours to satisfy their curiosity. It was an unfortunate trend in her life.

In high school, Lacey hadn’t had many friends either. Most of the girls at Storybrook High were jealous of her early development, confidence and good grades. They had behaved the same way with her sister at first, but Belle had eventually won them over with her sweet nature, baking cakes for birthdays and acting small and apologetic whenever someone accused her of being too perfect. Lacey wasn’t good at making herself small and she didn’t want to be, her tomboy nature leading her to be much more interested in traditionally male activities anyway. At the beginning, that preference seemed to work in her favour, but once puberty really set in, she had begun losing the few male friends she had made in the first years of high school.

Sadly, boys her own age had wanted only one thing from her and _spoiler alert_ , it wasn’t conversations about the new crime drama she was obsessed with or meeting up to watch a football game, binging on fast food. She’d tried to go on dates with some of them, mostly to preserve her dying friendships a little longer, but there just wasn’t any attraction on her part and she had ended up trying to let them down gently. Some of them hadn’t taken kindly to that and had consequently made their rounds around school, telling everyone who wanted to listen how Lacey French had sucked them off in Granny’s restroom. Gradually, people started to look at her as the town’s wild child, a view that she might have supported with her preference of short dresses, alcoholic drinks and swear words. But again, she didn’t feel like adapting her behaviour according to other people’s gossip. In all honesty, she’d never bothered to correct them because she hadn’t cared about what they thought. Promiscuity wasn’t a crime to be ashamed about after all, regardless of whether or not she had actually committed it.

Lacey wasn’t even sure if Belle knew that Barney was her first. Probably not, she thought, remembering the sad look on her sister’s face when Belle had told her that she herself was still a virgin. She had said it as if it was an unfortunate blemish, but Lacey disagreed. God knew, Belle hadn’t found a partner worthy of her in Gary LeGume, a loud-mouthed, burly orc of a man. While Lacey thought that sex, one’s first time included, didn’t necessarily have to mean something, she nevertheless couldn’t help but be incredibly grateful for the man standing in front of her. She couldn’t imagine being more attracted to anyone than she was to Barney and the nervousness she’d usually felt when thinking about sex had given way to eager impatience.

“Well, I’m glad you aren’t angry with me,” she repeated, looking up at him.

Stepping closer, Lacey started to absent-mindedly play with one of the buttons on his jacket, the smooth plastic cool underneath her fingertips.

“I could never be, sweetheart,” Barney mumbled, “You make me happier than I’ve ever been.”

“You looked so upset, though,” she said, watching as his expression became sad once more, his eyebrows drawing together, dark eyes contemplating the floor at their feet.

“I was just thinking about something else, angel, it wasn’t you I was upset about,” he assured her, and she wanted to ask him what it was that had made him upset but he spoke again before she had the chance, “Nothing important, just boring business stuff, you know... Nothing I can’t handle.”

He didn’t look up.

Wanting to comfort him and be enveloped by his comforting scent herself, Lacey pulled him towards her by the lapels of his jacket, lightly resting her forehead against his chest, and felt him still underneath her hands. Very slowly, very deliberately, Lacey began sliding her palms underneath his jacket, pressing the thinner material of his shirt against his warm skin as she rubbed her hands along his chest, her hands trapped between layers of clothing, caressing him. She could hear his breathing become slower and heavier and closed her eyes when she felt his hands cradle her hips, fingers hesitantly digging into the flesh beneath her thin dress. Barney was watching her now, and his attention made her feel dizzy, comfortably hot between her legs. Trying to avoid the intensity of his warm eyes, she hugged him, winding her arms around his neck, overwhelmed by her own feelings. She buried a secret smile in the crook of his neck and finally inhaled the heavenly scent of him, pressing her body against his broader frame, her breast rubbing against his shirt. Barney huffed, and she felt him exhaling a shaky breath, seemingly unsure of himself,. He pulled her closer against him nonetheless, his hands sliding up her back when Lacey felt something stir against her lower stomach. She knew what she wanted.

"Did you lock the door of the shop?" she asked, gently whispering in his ear as if she was afraid to wake them from a pleasant dream.

"No," he answered shakily, her cool breath on his neck making him feel dizzy. "Why?"

"Do you mind?” she asked.

"Mind what, sweetheart?" he repeated, clearly not understanding her intentions.

"If we leave it open..."

"No, why would-oh."

"Mhm, yes," Lacey smiled against his skin, delighted at hearing Barney's shocked whimper as she started to nibble on his earlobe. "I want you."

“Here?” he asked, and Lacey made an affirmative sound, slowly running a hand down along the curve of his belly, cupping his half-hard cock through his pants and stroking it.

Barney twitched involuntarily, gasping into her hair.

"Mhm, yes,” she answered, slowly continuing to stroke him, and pressing herself against him, fabric creasing beneath her fingers, “I want a repeat performance, you know... want to taste you again. I want to see what you look like without all these clothes on.”

Barney almost choked.

“Y-You don’t want to see me n-naked, angel. Trust me,” he said, sounding bitter.

Lacey tutted at him, no tolerance for his self-doubt, and grinned when Barney moaned brokenly as she pressed a firm hand between his thighs, massaging his balls.

“I disagree,” she said gently, enthusiastically nibbling along the line of his jaw, “Maybe we can see what I can take when I'm awake, hm?" He moaned again, and she tilted her head to the side, intending to go for their first kiss, her own breath unsteady. "You must have stretched me really good last time, my ass is still sore from your cock."

At that, Barney let out a long, pained mewl and before she understood what was happening, Lacey felt a push against her shoulders and found herself standing alone, fighting to keep her balance. Barney had quickly taken a few steps backwards and looked lost, his jacket and tie askew, wide-eyed and flustered, his pants still tented by his erection. He panted, shaking his head.

“I’m sorry, Lacey,” he exclaimed, pressing a hand against his damp forehead.

“What is it?” she asked, more confused than hurt by his sudden retreat, “Are you okay?”

“Y-Yes, yes, I-I-I… I just can’t do this right now, I don’t- I don’t have the time,” he said, and Lacey shook her head, not understanding. She could see that he was deeply upset about something, looking pale and panicked, as if he was going to be sick, “I-I’ll see you for lunch.”

“What, why? Where are you going?” Lacey asked, thinking that he was in no condition to go anywhere right now, but he had already turned around and was making his way towards the front, his steps hurried, as if he was fleeing from her.

“I need to see my brother about something,” he called out to her over his shoulder when he ducked through the bead curtain, his voice sounding desperate and panicked.

“Okay!” Lacey called after him, trying her best to sound steady and supporting, although she was deeply puzzled by the entire situation, “I’ll mind the shop, don’t worry about it.”

When the door bell rang a second time that day, she sighed unhappily.

She didn’t know what the fuck was going on.  


[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/154155298@N02/28823523668/in/dateposted-public/)


	6. Brothers Up In Arms

When Barney reached the shop, his brother and Belle French were having tea and so, when he first entered, the bell above the door heralding his arrival, he immediately encountered an impersonal dismissal. 

“We’re closed, come back in thirty minutes,” he heard his brother call through the thick curtains that separated the back room from the shop. 

He nervously shuffled forward, his shoes squeaking on the recently cleaned floor. Careful not to step on any patches that were still damp, Barney awkwardly tip-toed to the counter. There, he straightened his jacket and smoothed out his hair before answering.

“I-It’s me, Barney” he called back, cursing himself for the tremor in his voice, “Ah need tae talk tae you.”

Whether he feared his brother or not, he told himself, he would be brave this time. For Lacey.

Behind the curtain, Barney could hear the annoyed rustling of expensive fabric, the exact movements of leather shoes on hardwood floor and finally the telltale tap of a cane. A second later, heavy brocade was flung aside when his brother emerged, an irritated scowl on his face. After the curtain had fallen into place behind him, he straightened, fixing Barney with the eyes of a predator, hands and cane by his sides in treasonous nonchalance. 

For a moment, there was silence between them. 

Then, the first move.

“Can it wait?” Gold asked, leaning his head to the side just slightly, distinctly enunciating every word. 

Barney felt his stomach drop right away. Gold wasn’t going to be in a merciful mood today. During their childhood, Barney had quickly learned to interpret his younger brother’s moods because the same thing on two different days could elicit wildly different responses. He remembered an incident back in Scotland when Barney, who had always been timid and non-confrontational, had run to his brother during a playground fight. Gold had not only sheltered him but pulled a knife on his bullies, a move that had scared the normally superior third graders into a fast and disorderly retreat. Just a year later, the situation being exactly the same, he had pulled the knife on Barney instead, telling him to ‘nae be sic’ a fud’, and forced him back before his tormentors. Today, not only was his brother smirking at him in a way that Barney recognized couldn’t mean anything good, but his eyes also carried a certain glint in them. He had seen it before. It spoke of cruelty, of broken kneecaps, vicious laughter and begging debtors. 

Barney unconsciously started wringing his hands in front of his chest. Something seemed to be funny to Gold, he thought, but for the life of him he didn’t know what it could be. 

He took a deep breath, trying to focus on the here and now.

“N-no, it can’t wait,” he replied, fighting to keep his voice steady, “It’s important.”

Gold chuckled sarcastically, showing his teeth. 

“Yes, so I thought,” he said, circling the handle of his cane with leisurely movements while he studied Barney with a mischievous expression.

Assuming that Gold was just trying to mock him and get him confused, Barney tried to march on. 

“I’m here because I want to talk to you ab-”

“Oh, I know why you’re here, Barney,” his brother interrupted him. He rolled his eyes towards the ceiling dismissively, as if he was tired of a child’s antics, simultaneously stepping to the side and closer to the counter. “You forget who you’re talking to, brother dear.” 

Gold was looking directly at Barney now as he pulled a thick ledger from somewhere underneath the counter and put it on the glass surface with a heavy thump. 

Just as he was leafing through the tome, Belle peaked her head through the curtain, then squeezed herself along the side of it, entering the room in about as different a manner from Gold as she could have chosen were she trying to make a joke of it. She was cradling a cup of tea in her hands and, unaware of the drama that was unfolding before her, unfurled one of her hands from the warm cup to give him a little wave and a cheerful smile. 

“Hey, Barney.”

“Hi, Belle,” Barney muttered shyly, distractedly, soon looking back at his brother who at this moment propped the book up in his hands and turned it, as if Barney was a toddler and he was presenting him with a picture book. 

“Here it is,” he told Barney calmly, his voice explanatory, and pointed at a handwritten entry in the book. Mockingly, he read it out loud, “‘Monday afternoon: Barney comes to complain about Franco’.”

Feeling utterly humiliated in front of Lacey’s sister, Barney blushed furiously and looked down at his feet. His faux leather shoes were scuffed and looked impossibly old and cheap on the expensive floor of his brother’s business. Suddenly, he felt as if he was nine years-old again, being thrown to his bullies.

“So.” Gold put the book down, raising a derisive eyebrow. “What is this problem concerning Franco, my dear brother, that you, a nearly sixty-year-old man, cannot seem to solve without my help?”

Barney looked up to see Belle, who was looking severely uncomfortable, shooting him a compassionate glance before studying her tea intensely. Worrying the cup between her fingers, she began gently blowing on it, as much to cool it down as to distract herself from the sudden tension in the room.

“I-” Barney began timidly and thought about Lacey smiling at him, Lacey’s hand gentle against the small of his back. His voice grew a little steadier. “I’d prefer to talk about it in private. If you could join me outside…”

Gold scoffed overdramatically, tapping his fingers against the counter impatiently.

“Definitely not.” He raised his hand, commanding. “Leave the theatrics. What is it?” he demanded. 

“I don’t want to discuss it in front of Belle, Rumford,” Barney said defensively, immediately realizing that he had made a mistake in using his younger brother’s first name. He momentarily closed his eyes in silent regret. Stupid.

Behind the counter, Gold’s eyes had narrowed and he stood with his chin raised, his authority suddenly challenged. Inside the three-piece suit, his frame was stiff, unnaturally still. 

Belle coughed uncomfortably. 

“I-I can totally go, if you’d like,” she soothingly disrupted the eerie silence, “Take a walk or get us som-”

“You will stay,” Gold ordered, his voice harsh. He stiffly turned his head so that he could study her. When she didn’t protest but just obediently looked back at him, his body relaxed somewhat. He let out a constricted breath. “Drink your tea, sweetheart, it’s cool enough by now.”

Instinctively yielding to his command, Belle took a tentative sip from her cup and closed her eyes, seemingly savoring the taste, the dainty sound of her swallowing loud in the unnaturally quiet room. When she opened her eyes again and saw him waiting, fixed on her, she nodded. 

“It’s perfect.” She told him appeasingly and gave him a small smile, self consciously smoothing a stray hair behind her ear. “As always.”

Gold seemed to relax even further, finally uncurling his hands from the fists they had formed. 

Taking another sip, Belle turned to Barney. 

“Your brother really knows how to make a good cup of tea. Do you want some, maybe?” Belle asked encouragingly, seemingly having decided to try and mediate between the siblings. “It’s always better to argue over some tea and a few biscuits.”

Gold, who knew that Barney took his tea with milk, flinched, pulling a face. 

“No, he doesn’t,” he said hurriedly and with all the dominance he could muster, “He is here for a reason and he will state it or stop wasting my time.”

Barney, who realized that he hadn’t come very far in his quest for privacy, remained silent and desperately tried to think of an argument he could use to change the situation to his advantage. When he couldn’t come up with anything, he decided to improvise.

“Franco has overstepped a line this time,” he told his brother, trying to convey the seriousness of the situation without actually explaining it, “I’m not incapable of-of handling it alone but- but you know he isn’t the easiest person and- and he has really done something that is unforgivable…” Barney paused, not knowing what he could say about what Begbie had done without alerting Belle to his secret. He sighed audibly, frustrated, and soldiered on. “I-I can’t tell you right now but when we get a chance to speak in private you will understand that-”

Just when he thought that he had his brother’s full attention, Gold interrupted him.

“Understand what, Barney?” he asked, his tone quiet and emotionless. 

The glint that Barney had seen in his brother’s eyes when he’d entered the pawnshop was back and Barney suddenly had the horrible realization that it was him who was funny, him who was the joke.

“Tell me,” his brother continued, “What sibling quarrel is so horrid that I will have to be bound in moral outrage, choose one brother over another? You were always so easily offended, even when we were just children. Why don’t you understand that this is exactly why Franco likes to torment you so much?”

The room was silent, Belle trying her best to melt into the printed wall behind her. 

“B-But this it’s not about me,” Barney protested feebly. His voice was weak, just a small whisper in the suddenly vast space of the room.

“Are you sure about that? What has he done now, hm, Barney?” For a second, Gold looked almost gentle but then his face contorted into a horrible mask of mock consolation, his mouth forming a silent oh when he laid a shocked hand on his chest. “Oh no… Has he taken your toy again – or wait…“ Gold smirked and playfully made a concerned face, giving Barney an understanding nod, “Has he broken it?”

The violent realization about his brother’s full knowledge hit Barney like a sledgehammer and for a moment he was overcome by such dizziness and nausea that he felt like he’d have to vomit on the spotless floor before him. Solely the simultaneously forming hatred against his brothers that was building up inside him gave him the strength to keep himself together. He looked at his younger brother, hurt betrayal obvious in his face.

“Nevermind,” he choked out, angry about how stupid he had been. How had he not yet understood that family meant nothing to either of them, how was he still hoping for some shreds of human compassion or brotherly love from Gold after all these years. Stupid, Barney, stupid.

Turning away and stumbling towards the door, hot tears began to sting his eyes. 

“Barney!” he heard Gold call after him as he reached the door and flung it open in a mixture of humiliation and wrath. The monster still sounded like he was scolding him. “In the future, try to be a good brother and learn to compromise, hm? They say that sharing is caring after all.”

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/154155298@N02/43700182710/in/dateposted-public/)


End file.
